Private  Library  of 

ALDEN  CHASE, 
Woodstock,  Me, 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER: 


OR, 


RED  CEDAR,  THE  PRAIRIE  OUTLAW, 


BY    GUST  A  YE    AIMAED. 


Originally  written  in  French,  with  the  redundant  and  highly  u  flowery"  language  peculiar  to 
that  idiom— much  of  the  grand  excellence  of  the  book  is  lopt  to  American  readers,  who  love  direct- 
nesg  of  speech  and  precision  in  narrative.  This  minor  blemish — if  such  it  may  be  termed — haa 
etood  in  the  way  of  the  wide  circulation  of  the  volumes  which,  in  Europe,  have  run  like  wildfire 
over  the  great  field  of  literature. 

A  comparatively  slight  revision  adapts  thet?e  noted  works  to  the  American  taste.  This  revision 
having  been  confided  by  us  to  most  competent  hands,  American  readers  will  now  be  able  to  enjoy 
vhat,  Hitherto,  has  been  denied  them,  Gustave  Aimard  Americanized  ! 


YORK: 


BEADLE  AND  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS, 

98  WILLIAM  AND  41  PL^T  STREETS, 


I 


Entered  according  to  Act  o/  Congress,  In  the  year  1861 

By  BaiDLH  JLKD  COMPAHT,  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Coart  tf  the  United 
States  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  VIRGIN  FOREST. 

IN  Mexico  the  population  is  only  divided 
into  two  classes,  the  upper  and  the  lower. 
There  is  no  intermediate  rank  to  connect  the 
two  extremes,  and  this  is  the  cause  of  the  two 
hundred  and  thirty-nine  revolutions  which 
have  overthrown  this  country  since  the  dec- 
laration of  its  independence.  Why  this  is 
so  is  simple  enough.  The  intellectual  power 
is  in  the  hands  of  a  small  number,  and  all 
the  revolutions  are  effected  by  this  turbu- 
lent and  ambitious  minority  ;  whence  it  re- 
sults that  the  country  is  governed  by  the 
most  complete  military  despotism,  instead 
of  being  a  free  republic. 

The  inhabitants  of  Chihuahua  and  Texas 
have  retained,  even  to  the  present  day,  that 
stern,  savage,  and  energetic  physiognomy 
which  may  be  sought  in  vain  among  the 
other  States  of  the  Confederation. 

Beneath  a  sky  colder  than  that  of  Mexico, 
the  winter,  which  frequently  covers  the  rivers 
of  the  region  with  a  thick  layer  of  ice,  hard- 
ens the  muscles  of  the  inhabitants,  cleanses 
their  blood,  purifies  their  hearts,  and  ren- 
ders them  picked  men,  who  are  distinguished 
for  their  courage,  their  intelligence,  and  their 
profound  love  of  liberty. 

The  Apaches,  who  originally  inhabited  the 
greater  portion  of  New  Mexico,  have  grad- 
ually fallen  back  before  the  ax  of  the  pio- 
neers ;  and  after  retiring  into  the  immense 
deserts  that  cover  the  triangle  formed  by 
the  Rio  Gila,  the  Del  Norte,  and  the  Colo- 
rado, they  ravage  almost  with  impunity  the 
Mexican  frontiers,  plundering,  firing,  and 
devastating  all  they  meet  with  on  their  pas- 
sage. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  countries  we  al- 
luded to  above,  held  in  respect  by  these 
ever-shifting  savages,  are  in  a  state  of  con- 
tinual warfare  with  them,  always  ready  to 
fight,  fortifying  their  settlements,  and  only 
traveling  with  weapons  in  their  hands. 


On  a  lovely  morning  in  the  month  of  May, 
which  the  Indians  call  "the  moon  of  the 
flowers,"  a  man  of  high  stature,  with  harsh 
and  marked  features,  mounted  on  a  tall,  half- 
tamed  steed,  started  at  a  canter  from  the  Bending  over  the  neck  of  his  galloping 
plaea,  and  after  a  few  minutes  of  hesitation,  steed,  he  advanced  rapidly  without  looking 

^" '*IJ^j  S*\.  ^X   A      f    mm 


employed  in  realizing  his  position,  resolutely 
buried  his  spurs  in  the  horse's  flanks,  crossed 
the  ford,  and  after  leaving  behind  him  the 
numerous  cotton  wood  trees  which  at  this 
spot  cover  the  river  banks,  proceeded  toward 
the  dense  forest  that  flashed  on  the  horizon. 

This  horseman  was  dressed  in  the  costume 
generally  adopted  on  the  frontiers,  and 
which  was  so  picturesque  that  we  will  give 
a  short  description  of  it.  The  stranger  wore 
a  pelisse  of  green  cloth,  embroidered  with 
silver,  allowing  a  glimpse  of  an  elegantly- 
worked  shirt,  the  collar  of  which  was  fast- 
ened by  a  loosely-knotted  black  silk  hand- 
kerchief, the  ends  passed  through  a  diamond 
rin«r.  He  wore  green  cloth  breeches,  trim- 
med with  silver,  and  two  rows  of  buttons  of 
the  same  metal,  and  fastened  round  the  hips 
by  a  red  silken  scarf  with  gold  fringe.  The 
breeches,  open  on  the  side  half  way  up  the 
thigh,  displayed  his  fine  linen  drawers  be- 
neath :  his  legs  were  defended  by  a  strip  of 
brown  embossed  and  stamped  leather,  at- 
tached below  the  knee  by  a  silver  garter. 
On  his  heels  enormous  spurs  clanked.  A 
mantle  glistening  with  gold,  and  drawn  up 
on  the  shoulder,  protected  the  upper  part 
of  his  body,  while  his  head  was  sheltered 
from  the  burning  sunbeams  by  a  broad- 
leafed  hat  of  brown  stamped  felt,  the  crown 
of  which  was  contracted  by  a  large  silver 
cord  passed  twice  or  thrice  around  it. 

His  steed  was  caparisoned  with  graceful 
luxuriousness,  which  hightened  all  its  beau- 
tiful points :  a  rich  saddle  of  embossed 
leather,  adorned  with  massive  silver,  wide 
Moorish  silver  stirrups,  and  handsome  water 
bottles  at  the  saddle-bow ;  while  an  elegant 
netting,  made  of  open-work  leather,  and  dec- 
orated with  small  steel  chains,  entirely  cov- 
ered the  horse's  croup,  and  sparkled  with  its 
slightest  movement. 

The  stranger  appeared,  judging  from  the 
luxury  he  displayed,  to  belong  to  the  high 
class  of  society.  A  sword  hung  down  his 
right  side,  two  pistols  were  passed  through 
his  girdle,  the  handle  of  a  long  knife  protru- 
ded from  his  right  boot,  and  he  held  a  su- 
perbly damascened  rifle  across  the  saddle  in 
front  of  him. 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


round  him,  although  the  landscape  that  lay 
extended  before  him  was  one  of  the  moat  at- 
tractive and  majestic  in  those  regions. 

The  river  formed  the  most  capricious  wind- 
ings in  the  center  of  a  terrain  diversified  in 
a  thousand  strange  ways.  Here  and  there 
on  the  sandy  banks  enormous  trees  might 
be  seen  lying,  which,  dried  up  by  the  sun, 
evidenced,  In  their  washed-out  appearance, 
that  they  had  been  dead  for  centuries.  Near 
the  shallow  and  marshy  spots,  caymans  and 
alligators  wandered  about  awkwardly.  At 
other  places,  where  the  river  ran  almost 
straight,  its  banks  were  uniform,  and  cover- 
ed with  tall  trees,  round  which  creepers  had 
twined,  and  then  struck  root  in  the  ground 
agaiu,  thus  forming  the  most  inextricable 
confusion.  Here  and  there  small  clearings 
or  marshy  spots  might  be  detected  in  the 
midst  of  the  dense  wood,  often  piled  up 
with  trees  that  had  died  of  old  age.  Furth- 
er on,  other  trees,  which  seemed  still  young, 
judging  from  their  color  and  the  solidity  of 
their  bark,  fell  into  dust  with  the  slightest 
breath  of  wind. 

At  times  the  earth,  entirely  undermined 
beneath,  drawn  down  by  its  own  weight, 
dragged  with  it  the  wood  which  it  bore,  and 
produced  a  crashing,  confused  sound,  which 
was  returned  on  all  sides  by  the  echo,  and 
possessed  a  certain  degree  of  grandeur  in 
this  desert,  whose  depths  no  man  has  ever 
yet  dared  to  scrutinize. 

Still  the  stranger  galloped  on,  with  his 
eye  ardently  fixed  before  him,  and  not  ap- 
pearing to  see  anything.  Several  hours  pass- 
ed thus :  the  horseman  buried  himself  deeper 
in  the  forest.  He  had  left  the  banks  of  the 
river,  and  only  progressed  with  extreme  diffi- 
culty through  the  entanglement  of  branches, 
grass,  and  shrubs  which  at  every  step  arrest- 
ed his  movements,  and  forced  him  to  make 
innumerable  turnings.  He  merely  reined  up 
his  horse  now  and  then,  took  a  glance  at  the 
sky,  and  then  started  again,  muttering  to 
himself  but  one  word: 

"Addante  /"  (Forward  !) 

At  length  he  stopped  in  a  vast  clearing, 
took  a  suspicions  glance  around  him,  and 
probably  reassured  by  the  leaden  silence 
which  weighed  on  the  desert,  he  dismounted, 
hobbled  his  horse,  and  took  off  its  bridle  that 
it  might  browse,  on  the  young  tree-shoots. 
This  duty  accomplished,  he  carelessly  lay 
down  on  the  ground,  rolled  a  maize  cigar- 
ette in  his  h'ngere,  produced  a  gold  match- 
box from  his  waist-belt,  and  struck  a  light. 

The  clearing  was  of  considerable  extent. 
On  one  side  the  eye  could  survey  with  ease, 
through  the  trees,  the  widely-extending 
prairie,  on  which  deer  were  browsing  with 
security.  On  the  other  side,  the  forest,  wild- 
er than  ever,  seemed,  on  the  contrary,  an  im- 
passable wall  of  verdure.  All  was  abrupt 
and  primitive  at  this  spot,  which  the  foot  of 
man  had  rarely  trodden.  Certain  trees,  either 
entirely  or  partially  dried  up,  offered  the 
rigorous  remains  of  a  rich  and  fertile  soil ; 


others,  equally  ancient,  were  sustained  by 
the  twisted  creepers,  which  in  the  course  of 
time  almost  equaled  their  original  support 
in  size :  the  diversity  of  the  leaves  produced 
the  strangest  possible  mixture.  Others, 
containing  in  their  hollow  trunk  a  manure 
which,  formed  of  their  leaves  and  half-dead 
branches,  had  warmed  the  seeds  they  had 
let  fall,  and  offered,  in  the  young  shoots 
they  contained,  some  compensation  for  the 
loss  of  their  father  tree. 

In  the  prairies,  nature,  ever  provident, 
seems  to  have  been  desirous  to  shelter  from 
the  insults  of  time  certain  old  trees,  patri- 
archs of  the  forest  which  are  crushed  be- 
neath the  weight  ot  ages,  by  formiog  them 
a  cloak  of  grayish  moss,  which  hangs  in  fes- 
toons from  the  highest  branches  to  the 
ground,  assuming  the  wildest  and  most  fan- 
tastic shapes. 

The  stranger,  lying  on  his  back,  With  his 
head  resting  on  his  two  crossed  hands,  was 
smoking  with  that  beatitude,  full  of  ease 
and  sloth,  which  is  peculiar  to  Southerners. 
He  only  interrupted  this  gentle  occupation 
to  roll  a  fresh  cigarette  and  cast  a  glance 
around,  while  muttering : 

"JEum!  he  keeps  me  waiting  a  long 
time." 

He  emitted  a  puff  of  bluish  smoke, 
and  resumed  his  first  position.  Several 
hours  passed  thus.  Suddenly  a  rather  loud 
rustling  was  heard  in  the  thicket,  some  dis- 
tance behind  the  stranger. 

"Ah,  ah!"  he  said,  "I  fancy  my  man  is 
coming  at  last." 

In  the  mean  while  the  sound  became 
louder,  and  rapidly  approached. 

"Hang  it,  come  on,"  the  horseman  shout- 
ed as  he  rose.  "  By  our  Lady  of  Pilar !  you 
have  surely  kept  me  waiting  long  enough." 
•Nothing  appeared :  the  clearing  was  still 
deserted,  although  the  sound  had  attained  a 
certain  degree  of  intensity.  The  stranger, 
surprised  at  the  obstinate  silence  of  the  man 
he  was  addressing,  and  specially  by  his  con- 
tinuing not  to  show  himself,  at  length  rose 
to  see  for  himself  the  reason.  At  this  mo- 
ment his  horse  pricked  up  its  ears,  snorted 
violently,  and  made  a  sudden  effort  to  free 
itself  from  the  lasso  that  held  it;  but  our 
new  acquaintance  rushed  toward  it  and  pat- 
ted it.  The  horse  trembled  all  over,  and 
made  prodigious  bounds  in  order  to  escape. 
The  stranger,  more  and  more  surprised, 
looked  round  for  an  explanation  of  these  ex- 
traordinary movements,  and  was  soon  satis- 
fied. 

Scarce  twenty  yards  from  him  a  mag- 
nificent jaguar,  with  a  splendidly  spotted 
hide,  was  crouched  on  the  main  branch  of 
an  enormous  cyprese,  and  fixed  on  him  two 
ferocious  eyes,  as  it  passed  its  blood-red, 
rugged  tongue  over  its  lips  with  a  feline 
pleasure. 

"Ah,  ah!"  the  stranger  said  to  himself 
in  a  low  voice,  but  displaying  no  further  ex- 
citement, "I  did  not  expect  you;  but  no 


THE  T\VO  JAOUARS. 


matter,  you  are  welcome,  comrade.  Himiph  ! 
we  shall  have  a  fight  for  it." 

Without  taking  his  eye  oft'  the  jaguar,  ho 
convinced  himself  that  his  sword  quitted 
its  scabbard  readily,  picked  up  his  rifle,  and, 
after  these  precautions  were  taken,  he  ad- 
vanced resolutely  toward  the  ferocious  brute, 
v  which  saw  him  coming  without  changing  its 
position.  On  arriving  within  ten  yards  of 
the  jaguar,  the  stranger  threw  away  the 
cigarette  he  had  till  now  heid  between  his 
lips,  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  put  his  linger 
on  the  trigger.  The  jaguar  drew  itself  to- 
gether and  prepared  to  leap  forward.  At 
the  same  moment  a  hoarse  yell  was  heard 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  clearing. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  the  stranger  said  to 
himself,  with  a  smile;  "it  seems  there  are 
two  of  them,  and  I  fancied  I  had  to  do  with 
a  bachelor  jaguar.  This  is  beginning  to 
grow  interesting." 

And  he  threw  a  glance  on  one  side.  He 
had  not  deceived  himself  :  a  second  jaguar, 
rather  larger  than  the  first,  had  fixed  its 
flashing  eyes  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CONTEST. 

THE  dwellers  on  the  Mexican  frontiers  are 
accustomed  to  fight  continually  with  wild 
animals,  both  men  and  brutes,  that  con- 
tinually attack  them.  Hence  the  stranger 
was  but  slightly  affected  by  the  unexpected 
visit  of  the  two  jaguars.  Although  his  po- 
sition between  his  two  ferocious  enemies 
was  somewhat  precarious,  and  he  did  not  at 
all  conceal  from  himself  the  danger  he  ran 
alone  against  two,  he  did  not  the  less  resolve 
to  confront  them  bravely.  Not  taking  his 
eye  off  the  jaguar  he  had"  first  seen,  he  went 
back  a  few  steps  obliquely,  so  as  to  have  his 
foes  nearly  opposite  him,  instead  of  stand- 
ing between  them.  This  maneuver,  which 
demanded  some  little  time,  succeeded  be- 
yond his  hopes.  The  jaguars  watched  him, 


licking  their  lips,  and  passing  their  paws  be- 
their  ears  with   those  graceful  move- 


hind 


ments  peculiar  to  the  feline  race.  The  two 
wild  beasts,  certain  of  their  prey,  seemed 
to  be  playing  with  it,  and  not  over  eager  to 
pounce  on  it. 

While  keeping  his  eye  on  the  watch,  the 
Mexican  did  not  yield  to  any  treacherous 
feeling  of  security:  he  knew  that  the 
struggle  he  was  about  to  undertake  was  a 
supreme  one,  and  he  took  his  precautions. 
Jaguars  never  attack  a  man  unless  forced  by 
necessity  ;  and  the  latter  tried,  before  all, 
to  seize  the  horse.  The  noble  animal,  se- 
curely fastened  by  its  master,  exhausted 
itself  in  efforts  to  break  the  bonds  that  held 
it,  and  escape.  It  trembled  with  terror  on 
scenting  its  ferocious  enemies. 

The  stranger,  when  his  precautions  were 
completely  taken,  shouldered  his  rule  for 


the  second  time.  At  this  moment  the  jagu- 
ars raised  their  heads,  while  laying  back  their 
ears  and  sniffing  anxiously.  An  almost  im- 
perceptible sound  was  audible  in  the  bushes. 

u  Who  goes  there  ?"  the  Mexican  asked  in 
a  loud  voice. 

"  A  friend,  Don  Miguel  Zarate,"  was  the 
reply. 

11  Ah!  it  is  Valentine,"  the  Mexican  con- 
tinued. "You  have  arrived  just  in  time  to 
see  some  fine  sport." 

"Ah,  ah!"  the  man  who  had  already 
spoken  went  on.  "  Can  I  help  you  ?" 

"It  is  useless;  but  make  haste  if  you 
want  to  see." 

The  branches  were  sharply  drawn  aside, 
and  two  men  appeared  in  the  clearing.  At 
the  sight  of  the  jaguars  they  stopped,  not 
through  alarm,  for  they  quietly  placed  the 
butts  of  their  rifles  on  the  ground,  but  in 
order  to  give  the  hunter  every  facility  to 
emerge  victorious  from  his  rash  combat. 

The  jaguars  seemed  to  comprehend  that 
the  moment  for  action  had  arrived.  As  if 
by  one  accord,  they  drew  themselves  up  and 
bounded  on  their  enemy.  The  first,  struck 
in  its  leap  by  a  bullet  which  passed  through 
its  right  eye,  rolled  on  the  ground,  where  it 
remained  motionless.  The  second  was  re- 
ceived on  the  point  of  the  hunter's  knife, 
who,  after  discharging  his  rifle,  had  fallen  on. 
his  knee,  with  his  left  arm  folded  in  hia 
blanket  in  front,  and  the  knife  in  the  other 
hand.  The  man  and  the  tiger  writhed  to- 
gether in  a  deadly  embrace,  and  after  a  few 
seconds  only  one  of  the  adversaries  rose :  it 
was  the  man.  The  tiger  was  dead :  the  hun- 
ter's knife,  guided  by  a  firm  hand,  had  passed 
through  its  heart. 

During  this  rapid  fight  the  new-comers 
had  not  made  a  sign,  but  remained  stoical 
spectators  of  all  that  was  taking  place.  The 
Mexican  rose,  thrust  his  weapon  thrice  into 
the  grass  to  clean  the  blade,  and  turning 
coldly  to  the  strangers,  said  : 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that?" 

"Splendidly  played,"  the  first  answered; 
"  it  is  one  of  the  best  double  strokes  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life." 

The  two  men  threw  their  rifles  on  their 
shoulders,  and  walked  up  to  their  friend, 
Who  reloaded  his  piece  with  as  much  cool- 
ness and  tranquillity  as  if  he  had  not  just 
escaped  from  a  terrible  danger  by  a  miracle 
of  skill. 

The  sun  was  sinking  on  the  horizon,  the 
shadows  of  the  trees  assumed  a  prodigious 
length,  and  the  luminary  appeared  like  a 
ball  of  fire  amid  the  limpid  azure  of  the 
heavens.  The  night  would  soon  arrive,  and 
the  desert  was  awaking.  On  all  sides  could 
be  heard,  iu  the  gloomy  and  mysterious 
depths  of  the  virgin  forest,  the  hoarse  howl- 
ing of  the  coyotes  and  other  wild  beasts, 
mingled  with  the  song  of  the  birds  perched 
on  all  the  branches.  The  desert,  silent  and 
gloomy  during  the  oppressive  heat  of  day, 
emerged  from  its  unhealthy  toroor  oil  the 


10 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


approach  of  dark,  and  was  preparing  to  re- 
sume its  nocturnal  sports. 

The  three  men  in  the  clearing  collected 
dried  branches,  made  a  pile  of  them,  and  set 
fire  to  it.  They  doubtlessly  intended  to 
camp  for  a  portion  of  the  night  at  this  spot. 
So  soon  as  the  flames  rose  joyously  skyward 
in  long  spirals,  the  two  strangers  produced 
from  meir  game-bags  maize^cakes,  jerked 
incut,  and  a  gourd  "of  whisky.  These  va- 
rious comestibles  were  complacently  spread 
out  on  the  grass,  and  the  three  men  began  a 
hunter's  meal.  When  the  gourd  had  gone 
the  round  several  times,  and  the  food  had 
disappeared,  the  new-comers  lit  their  In- 
dian pipes,  and  the  Mexican  rolled  a  cigar- 
ette. 

Although  this  meal  had  been  short,  it 
lasted,  however,  long  enough  for  night  to 
have  completely  set  in  ere  it  was  ended. 
Perfect  darkness  brooded  over  the  clearing, 
the  ruddy  reflections  of  the  fire  played  on 
the  energetic  faces  of  the  three  men,  and 
gave  them  a  fantastic  appearance. 

44  And  now,"  the  Mexican  said,  afterlight- 
ing  his  cigarette,  "I  will,  with  your  permis- 
sion, explain  to  you  why  I  was  so  anxious  to 
see  you." 

"One  moment,"  one  of  the  hunters  an- 
swered. "You  know  that  in  the  deserts 
the  leaves  have  often  eyes,  and  the  trees 
ears.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  in  your  hints, 
you  invited  us  here  that  our  interview  might 
be  secret." 

"  In  truth,  I  have  the  greatest  interest 
that  nothing  of  what  is  said  here  be  over- 
heard, or  even  suspected." 

44  Very  good.     Curumilla,  to  your  work." 

The  second  hunter  rose,  seized  his  rifle, 
and  disappeared  noiselessly  in  the  gloom. 
His  absence  was  rather  long;  but,  as  long 
as  it  lasted,  the  two  men  left  at  the  fire  did 
not  exchange  a  syllable.  In  about  half  an 
hour  the  hunter  returned,  however,  and  seat- 
ed himself  by  his  comrades'  side. 

44  Well  V"  the  one  who  had  sent  him  off 
asked  him. 

44  My  brothers  can  speak,"  he  replied,  la- 
conically ;  u  the  desert  is  quiet." 

On  this  assurance  the  three  men  banished 
all  anxiety.  Still  prudence  did  not  abandon 
them  :  they  took  up  their  pipes,  and  turned 
their  backs  to  the  tire,  so  that  they  might 
watch  the  neighborhood  while  conversing. 

41  We  are  ready  to  listen  to  you,"  the  first 
hunter  said. 

44  Listen  to  me  with  the  greatest  atten- 
tion," the  Mexican  began;  "what,  you  are 
about  to  hear  is  of  the  utmost  importance." 

The  two  men  bowed  silently,  and  the  Mex- 
ican prepared  to  speak  again. 

Before  going  further  we  must  introduce  to 
the  reader  the  two  men  we  have  just  brought 
on  the  stage,  and  go  back  a  few  paces  in  or- 
der to  make  it  perfectly  understood  why 
Don  Miguel  Zarate,  in  lieu  of  receiving  them 
at  his  own  house,  had  given  them  the  meet- 
ing in  the  heart  of  the  forest. 


The  two  hunters  seemed  at  the  first  glance 
to  be  Indians;  but,  on  examining  them 
more  attentively,  you  could  recognize  that 
one  of  them  belonged  to  those  white  trap- 
pers whose  boldness  has  become  proverbial 
in  the  South-west.  Their  appearance  and 
equipment  offered  a  singular  medley  of  sav- 
age and  civilized  life.  Their  hair  was  of  a 
remarkable  length ;  for  in  those  countries, 
where  a  man  is  frequently  only  sought  for 
the  glory  of  lifting  his  scalp,  it  is  considered 
the  thing  to  wear  it  long  and  easy  to  seize. 

They  had  their  hair  neatly  plaited,  and  in- 
tertwined with  beaver-skins  and  bright-col- 
ored ribbons.  The  rest  of  their  garb  har- 
monized with  this  specimen  of  their  taste. 
A  hunting-shirt  of  bright  red  calico  fell 
clown  to  their  knees;  gaiters  decorated  with 
woolen  ribbons  and  bells  surrounded  their 
legs;  and  their  feet  were  shod  with  mocca- 
sins embroidered  with  beads,  which  the 
squaws  know  so  well  how  to  make.  A  stri- 
ped blanket,  fastened  round  the  hips  by  a 
belt  of  tanned  deer-hide,  completed  their 
clothing,but  was  not  so  closely  drawn  that 
at  their  every  movement  the  butt  of  the  pis- 
tols and  the  hilt  of  the  knives  might  be  seen 
glistening.  As  for  their  rifles,  useless  at  this 
moment,  and  carelessly  thrown  on  the 
ground  by  their  side,  if  they  had  been  strip- 
ped of  the  plume- worked  elk- skin  that  cov- 
ered them,  it  would  have  been  possible  to 
see  with  what  care  their  owners  had  decorat- 
ed them  with  copper  nails  painted  of  various 
colors ;  for  all  about  these  two  men  bore 
the  imprint  of  Indian  habits. 

The  first  of  the  two  hunters  was  a  man  of 
thirty-eight  at  the  most,  tall,  and  well 
built :  his  muscular  limbs  denoted  great  bod- 
ily strength,  allied  to  unequaled  lightness. 
Although  he  affected  all  the  manners  of  the 
red-skins,  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  perceive 
that  he  not  onl}7  belonged  to  the  unmixed 
white  race,  but  also  to  the  Norman  or  Gaul- 
ish type.  He  was  fair ;  his  blue  eyes  had 
an  expression  of  undefinable  sadness ;  his 
nose  was  slightly  aquiline ;  his  mouth  large, 
and  filled  with  teeth  of  dazzling  whiteness; 
a  thick  chestnut  beard  covered  the  lower 
part  of  his  face,  which  revealed  gentleness, 
kindness,  and  courage  without  boasting, 
though  the  whole  were  combined  with  a  will 
of  iron. 

His  companion  evidently  belonged  to  the 
Indian  race,  all  the  characteristic  signs  of 
which  he  displayed ;  but,  strange  to  say,  he 
was  not  coppery  like  the  American  aborigi- 
nes of  Texas  and  North  America;  and  his 
skin  was  brown,  and  slightly  of  an  olive  hue. 
He  had  a  lofty  brow,  a  'bent  nose,  small  but 
piercing  eyes,  a  large  mouth,  and  square 
chin;  in  short,  he  presented  the  complete 
type  of  the  Araucano  race,  which  inhabits  a 
limited  territory  in  the  south  of  Chili.  This 
hunter  had  round  his  brow  a  purple-colored 
fillet,  in  which  was  thrust  over  the  right  ear 
a  plume  of  the  Andes  eagle,  a  sign  which 
serves  to  distinguish  the  chiefs  of  the  Aueae. 


A  STRANGE  SPECTACLE. 


11 


These  Indians— above  all,  in  New  Mexico 
— although  called  Iniliox  t/W<fc<,  are  always 
ready  on  the  tirst  opportunity  to  ally  them- 
selves with-  their  desert  congeners  ;  and  in 
the  incursions  of  the  Apaches  and  Coman- 
ches  it  is  rare  for  the  faithful  Indians  not  to 
serve  them  as  scouts,  guides,  and  spies. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  PECCAKIES. 

The  family  of  Don  Miguel  Zarate  had  re- 
tired to  New  Mexico,  which  country  it  did 
not  leave  again,  a  few  years  after  the  con- 
quests of  the  adventurer  Cortez.  Don  Mig- 
uel had  closely  followed  the  policy  of  his 
family  by  maintaining  the  bonds  of  friend- 
ship and  good  neighborhood  which,  from 
time  immemorial,  attached  it  to  the  Indians, 
believers  or  not.  This  policy  had  borne  its 
fruit.  Annually,  in  September,  when  the 
terrible  red  warriors,  preceded  by  murder 
and  arson,  rushed  like  a  torrent  on  the 
wretched  inhabitants,  whom  they  massacred 
in  the  farms  they  plundered,  without  pity 
for  age  or  sex,  only  Don  Miguel  Zarate' s  es- 
tates were  respected ;  and  not  merely  was 
no  damage  inflicted  on  them,  but  even  if  at 
times  a  field  were  unwittingly  trampled  by 
the  horses'  hoofs,  or  a  few  trees  destroyed 
by  plunderers,  the  evil  was  immediately  re- 
paired ere  the  owner  had  opportunity  for 
complaint. 

This  conduct  of  the  Indians  had  not  failed 
to  arouse  against  Don  Miguel  extreme  jeal- 
ousy on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants,  who  saw 
tnemselves  periodically  ruined  by  the  Indios 
Bravos.  Earnest  complaints  had  been  laid 
against  him  before  the  Mexican  Govern- 
ment ;  but  whatever  might  be  the  power  of 
his  enemies,  and  the  means  they  employed 
to  ruin  him,  the  rich  haciendero  had  never 
been  seriously  disturbed  :  in  the  first  place, 
because  New  Mexico  is  too  remote  from  the 
capital  for  the  inhabitants  to  have  any  thing 
to  fear  from  the  governing  classes ;  and 
secondly,  Don  Miguel  was  too  rich  not  to 
render  it  easy  for  him  to  impose  silence  on 
those  who  were  most  disposed  to  injure  him. 

Don  Miguel  was  left  a  widower  after  eight 
years'  marriage,  with  two  children,  a  boy  and 
girl,  the  son  being  twenty-four,  the  daugh- 
ter seventeen,  at  the  period  when  our  story 
opens.  Donna  Clara— such  was  the  daugh- 
ter's name — waa  one  of  the  most  delicious 
maidens  that  can  be  imagined.  Her  black 
eyes,  fringed  with  long  silky  lashes,  pure 
mouth,  and  dreamy  brow  seemed  to  promise 
divine  joys.  Her  complexion,  slightly 
bronzed  by  the  warm  sunbeams,  wore'  that 
gilded  reflection  which  so  well  becomes  the 
women  of  these  intertropical  countries. 
She  was  short  of  stature,  but  exquisitely 
modeled.  Gentle  and  simple,  ignorant  as 
a  Creole,  this  delicious  child  was  adored  by 
her  father,  who  saw  in  her  the  wife  he  had 


so  loved  living  once  more.  The  Indian* 
looked  after  her  when  she  at  times  passed 
pensively,  plucking  a  flower  before  their 
wretched  huts,  and  scarce  bending  the  plants 
on  which  she  placed  her  delicate  foot.  In 
their  hearts  they  compared  this  frail  maiden, 
with  her  soft  and  vaporous  outline,  to  the 
"  virgin  of  the  first  loves,"  that  sublime 
creation  of  the  Indian  religion  which  holds 
so  great  a  place  in  the  Aztec  mythology. 

Don  Pablo  Zarate,  the  son,  was  apowerful- 
Iv-built  man,  with  harshly-marked  features, 
a'nd  a  haughty  glance,  although  at  times  it 
was  imprinted  with  gentleness  and  kindness. 
Endowed  with  more  than  ordinary  strength, 
skilled  in  all  bodily  exercises,  Don  Pablo 
was  renowned  through  the  whole  country 
for  his  talent  in  taming  the  most  spirited 
horses,  and  the  correctness  of  his  aim  when 
on  the  chase.  A  determined  hunter  and 
daring  wrood-ranger,  this  young  man,  when 
he  had  a  good  horse  between  his  legs,  and 
his  rifle  in  his  hand,  knew  none,  man  or  ani- 
mal, capable  of  barring  his  passage.  The 
Indians,  in  their  simple  faith,  yielded  to  the 
son  the  same  respect  and  veneration  they 
entertained  for  the  father. 

The  Zarates,  then,  at  the  period  when  our 
story  opens,  were  real  kings  of  New  Mexico. 
But  the  felicity  they  enjoyed  was  suddenly 
troubled  by  one  of  those  vulgar  incidents 
which,  though  unimportant  in  themselves, 
produce  a  discomfort  possessing  no  apparent 
cause,  from  the  fact  that  it  is  impossible  to 
foresee  or  prevent  them.  The  circumstance 
was  as  follows : 

Don  Miguel  possessed,  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Paso,  vast  estates  extending  for  a  great 
distance,  and  consisting  principally  of  haci- 
endas, prairies,  and  forests.  One  day  he 
was  returning  from  a  visit  to  his  haciendas. 
It  was  late,  and  he  pressed  on  his  horse  in 
order  to  reach  ere  night  the  ford,  when,  at 
about  three  or  four  leagues  at  the  most  from 
the  spot  to  which  he  was  proceeding,  and 
just  as  he  was  entering  a  dense  forest  of 
cotton  wood  trees,  through  which  he  must 
pass  ere  reaching  the  ford,  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  cries  mingled  with  growls  emer- 

S'ng  from  th'e  wood  he  was  about  to  enter, 
e  stopped  in  order  to  account  for  the  un- 
usual sounds  he  heard,  and  bent  his  head 
forward  to  detect  what  was  happening. 
But  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  distinguish 
any  thing  through  the  chaos  of  creepers 
and  shrubs  which  intercepted  vision.  In 
the  meanwhile  the  noise  grew  louder,  and 
the  shouts  were  redoubled,  and  mingled 
with  oaths  and  passionate  exclamations. 

His  horse  laid  back  its  ears,  neighed,  and 
refused  to  advance.  Thinking  that  a  man 
was  probably  attacked  by  wild  beasts,  he 
only  consulted  his  heart;  and,  in  spite  of 
the  visible  repugnance  of  his  steed,  he  com- 
pelled it  to  go  forward  and  enter  the  wood. 
He  had  scarce  gone  a  few  yards  ere  he 
stopped  in  amazement  at  the  strange  spec- 
tacle that  presented  itself  to  him. 


12 


THE  TRAIL-  HUNTER. 


In  the  middle  of  a  clearing  lay  a  ripped- 
up  horse,  which  six  or  eight  peccaries  were 
rending,  while  a  dozen  others  were  attack- 
ing; with  their  tusks  the  stem  of  an  enor- 
mous tree,  in  the  topmost  branches  of  which 
a  man  had  sought  shelter. 

Let  us  explain  to  our  readers,  who  proba- 
bly know  little  about  them,  what  sort  of 
animals  the  peccaries  are, 

The  peccaries  hold  the  intermediate  grade 
between  the  domestic  pig  and  the  wild  boar. 
Although  this  animal  does  not  exceed  two 
feet  in"  night,  and  is  not  more  than  three 
feet  long  from  the  end  of  the  snout  to  the 
beginning  of  the  tail,  it  is  indubitably  one 
of  the  most  dangerous  animals  in  North 
America.  The  animal's  jaw  is  provided 
with  tusks  rather  like  those  of  the  boar,  but 
straight  and  sharp,  their  length  varying  be- 
tween four  and  six  inches.  In  the  shape  of 
the  body  it  resembles  a  pig,  but  the  bristles 
scattered  over  its  warty  hide  are  in  colored 
strips:  the  part  nearest  the  skin  is  white, 
and  the  point  of  a  chocolate  tinge.  So  soon 
as  the  animal  is  enraged  these  bristles  stand 
out  like  the  quills  of  a  porcupine. 

The  movements  of  the  peccaries  are  as 
quick  and  sharp  as  those  of  a  squirrel.  They 
ordinarily  live  in  herds  of  fifteen,  thirty, 
and  even  fifty.  The  strength  of  the  head, 
neck,  and  shoulders  is  so  great  when  they 
charge,  that  nothing  can  resist  the  impetu- 
osity of  their  attacks.  A  remarkable  pecu- 
liarity of  this  genus  is  the  clumsy  wart  they 
have  on  their  "backs,  whence  a  inusky  fluid 
evaporates  when  the  animal  is  in  a  fury. 

The  peccary  lives  in  preference  on  acorns, 
roots,  wheat,  sugar-cane,  and  reptiles  of 
every  description.  It  is  a  proved  fact  that 
the  most  venomous  serpents  are  devoured 
by  them  without  their  feeling  in  the  slight- 
est degree  incommoded. 

The  mode  in  which  the  peccary  forms  its 
lair  is  very  singular.  This  lair  is  generally 
in  the  midst  of  tufted  and  impenetrable 
canes,  found  in  marshy  spots  round  the 
monarchs  of  the  forest,  which  still  stand 
like  crushed  giants,  with  their  grappling 
lines  of  creepers  and  virgin  vines.  The 
trunks  of  these  trees,  which  at  times  meas- 
ure forty  feet  in  circumference,  are  nearly 
all  hollow,  and  thus  afford  a  convenient 
shelter  for  the  peccaries,  which  retire  to 
them  every  night  in  herds  of  twenty  to 
twenty-five,  entering  the  cavity  one  after 
the  other  backward;  so  that  the  last  has 
the  end  of  its  snout  placed  just  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  hole,  thus  watching,  as  it 
were,  over  the  rest  of  its  companions. 

The  peccaries  are  unboundedly  ferocious  : 
they  know  not  danger,  or  at  least  despise  it 
completely.  They  always  attack  in  herds, 
and  fight  with  unequaled  rage  until  the  last 
succumbs,  no  matter  the  nature  of  their 
foe.  Hence  men  and  animals  all  fly  a  meet- 
ing with  these  terrible  beasts:  the  jaguar, 
so  strong  and  redoubtable,  will  become  thrir 
wey  if  it  be  BO  imprudent  as  to  attack  them. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   SQUATTER. 

AFTER  what  we  have  said,  it  i*  easy  to 
understand  how  precarious  was  the  position 
of  the  man  perched  on  the  top  of  the  tree, 
and  surrounded  by  peccaries.  Hifi  enemies 
seemed  determined  not  to  leave  their 
ground ;  they  craftily  crept  round  the  tree, 
attacked  its  base  with  their  tusks,  and  then 
recognizing  the  inutility  of  thoir  onsets, 
tl>ey  quietly  lay  down  by  the  carcass  of  the 
horse,  which  they  had  already  sacrificed  to 
their  fury.  Don  Miguel  felt  moved  to  pity 
for  the  poor  fellow,  whose  position  grew 
momentarily  more  critical ;  but  in  vain  did 
he  rack  his  brains  how  to  help  the  unhappy 
man  whose  destruction  was  assured. 

To  attack  the  peccaries  would  have  been  ex- 
treme imprudence,  and  have  produced  no 
other  result  than  that  of  turning  on  himself 
the  fury  of  the  animals,  while  not  saving  the 
man  he  wished  to  help.  Still  time  pressed. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  How  without  sacri- 
ficing himself,  save  the  man  who  ran  so 
great  a  risk  ? 

He  hesitated  for  a  long  period.  It  seemed 
to  him  impossible  to  leave,  without  help, 
this  man  whose  death  was  certain.  This 
idea,  which  presented  itself  to  his  mind  sev- 
eral times,  he  had  energetically  repulsed,  so 
monstrous  did  it  appear  to  him.  At  length 
he  resolved  at  all  risks  to  attempt  impossi- 
bilities in  favor  of  this  stranger,  of  whose 
death  he  would  have  eventually  accused 
himself  had  he  left  him  to  perish  in  the 
desert. 

The  stranger's  position  was  the  more  crit- 
ical because,  in  his  haste  to  defend  himself 
from  the  attacks  of  his  enemies,  he  had  let 
his  rifle  fall  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and  was 
consequently  unable  to  reduce  the  number 
of  the  peccaries.  In  spite  of  the  fineness  of 
their  scent,  the  latter  had  not  noticed  Don 
Miguel's  approach,  who,  by  a  providential 
accident,  had  entered  the  wood  on  the  side 
opposite  the  wind.  He  dismounted  with  a 
sigh,  patted  his  horse,  and  then  took  off  its 
accouterments.  The  noble  animal,  habitu- 
ated to  its  master's  caresses,  shook  its  head 
joyously,  and  fixed  its  large  intelligent  eyes 
on  him.  Don  Miguel  could  not  repress  an- 
other sigh :  a  tear  fell  down  his  bronzed 
cheeks.  On  the  point  of  accomplishing  the 
sacrifice,  he  hesitated. 

It  was  a  faithful  companion,  almost  t 
friend,  he  was  about  to  separate  from ;  but 
the  life  of  a  man  was  at  stake.  Driving 
back  the  feelings  that  agitated  him,  his  res- 
olution was  formed.  He  passed  a  lasso 
round  his  horse's  neck,  and  in  spite  of  its 
obstinate  resistance,  compelled  it  to  advance 
to  the  entrance  of  the  clearing  in  which  the 
peccaries  were  assembled.  A  frail  curtain  ot 
creepers  and  leaves  alone  hid  it  from  theii 
sight.  On  arriving  here  he  stopped :  he  had 
one  more  moment's  hesitation,  but  only 
one  ;  for  then  seizing  a  bit  of  tinder,  which 


A  SINISTER  FACE. 


13 


he  lighted,  he  thrust  It  into  the  poor  ani- 
mal's ear  while  caressing  it. 

The  effect  was  sudden  and  terrible. 
The  horse  uttered  a  snort  of  pain ;  and  ren- 
dered mad  by  the  burning,  bounded  forward 
into  the  clearing,  striving  in  vain  to  get  rid 
of  the  tinder  which  caused  it  intolerable  suf- 
fering. Don  Miguel  had  smartly  leaped 
aside,  and  now  followed  with  an  anxious 
glance  the  result  of  the  terrible  tentative  he, 
had  just  made  to  save  the  stranger.  On 
seeing  the  horse  appear  suddenly  In  their 
midst,  the  peccaries  rose,  formed  a  compact 
group,  and  rushed  with  their  heads  down  in 
pursuit  of  the  horse,  thinking  no  longer  of 
the  man.  The  animal,  spurred  on  still  more 
by  the  sight  of  its  ferocious  enemies,  shot 
ahead  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  breaking 
down  with  its  chest  all  the  obstacles  in  its 
way,  and  followed  closely  by  the  peccaries. 

The  man  was  saved ;  but  at  what  a  price ! 
His  owner  repressed  a  last  sigh  of  regret, 
and  leaped  into  the  clearing.  The  stranger 
had  already  descended  from  the  tree;  but 
the  emotion  he  had  undergone  was  so  ex- 
treme, that  he  remained  seated  on  the 
ground,  almost  in  a  state  of  unconscious- 
ness. 

"Quick,  quick!"  Don  Miguel  said  to 
him  sharply.  "We  have  not  a  moment  to 
lose:  the  peccaries  may  alter  their  minds 
and  return." 

"That  is  true,"  the  stranger  muttered  in 
a  hollow  voice,  as  he  cast  a  Iterrih'ecl  glance 
around.  "  Let  us  be  off—  off  at  once." 

He  made  an  effort  over  himself,  seized  his 
rifle,  and  rose.  Through  a  presentiment 
for  which  he  could  not  account  to  himself, 
Don  Miguel  experienced  at  the  sight  of 
this  man,  whom  he  had  hitherto  scarce 
looked  at,  a  feeling  of  invincible  doubt  and 
disgust.  Owing  to  the  life  he  was  obliged 
to  lead  on  these  frontiers,  frequented  by 
people  of  every  description,  the  haciendero 
had  been  often  brought  into  relation  with 
trappers  and  hunters  whose  faces  were  no 
recommendation  to  them ;  but  never  had 
chance  brought  him  in  contact  with  an  indi- 
vidual of  such  sinister  appearance  as  this 
one. 

Still  he  did  not  allow  his  feelings  to  be 
seen  thro  ugh,  and  invited  this  man  to  follow 
him.  The  latter  did  not  let  the  invitation 
be  repeated ;  for  he  was  anxious  to  escape 
from  the  spot  where  he  had  been  so  near 
death.  Thanks  to  the  Mexican's  acquaint- 
ance with  the  country,  the  wood  was  speed- 
ily traversed,  and  the  two  men,  after  a  walk 
of  scarce  an  hour's  duration,  reached  the 
banks  of  the  Del  Norte,  just  opposite  the 
village.  Their  speed  had  been  so  great, 
their  anxiety  so  serious,  that  they  had  not 
exchanged  a  syllabic,  so  fearful  were  they 
of  seeing  the  peccaries  appear  at  any  moment. 
Fortunately  this  was  not  the  case,  and  they 
reached  the  ford  without  being  again  dis- 
turbed. 


trappings,  which  he  now  threw  on  the 
ground,  and  looked  around  him  in  the  hope 
of  iinding  some  one  who  would  help  him  in 
crossing  the  river.  His  expectations  were 
not  deceived  ;  for  just  as  they  reached  tho 
ford  a  muleteer  was  preparing  to  cross  to 
the  other  side  of  the  river  with  his  mules, 
and  offered  to  carry  them  both  to  the  town. 
The  two  men  eagerly  accepted,  each  mount- 
ed a  mule,  and  half  an  hour  later  they  found 
themselves  in  safety  at  the  village.  After 
giving  the  muleteer  a  few  coins  to  requite 
him  for  his  services,  Don  Miguel  took  up 
his  horse's  trappings  again,  and  prepared  to 
start.  The  stranger  stopped. 

"We  are  aboiit  to  part  here,"  he  said  in  a 
rough  voice ;  "  but,  before  leaving,  let  me  ex- 
press to  you  my  deep  gratitude  for  the  noble 
and  generous  manner  in  which  you  saved 
my  life  at  the  peril  of  your  own." 

"Sir,  I  only  did  my  duty  in  saving  you. 
In  the  desert  all  men  are  brothers,  and  owe 
eacli  other  protection.  Hence  do  not  thank 
me,  I  beg,  for  a  very  simple  action  :  any 
other  in  my  place  would  have  acted  as  I  have 
done." 

"Perhaps  so,"  the  stranger  continued; 
"  but  be  kind  enough,  pray,  to  tell  me  your 
name,  so  that  I  may  know  to  whom  I  owe 
my  life." 

"  That  is  needless,"  Don  Miguel  said  with 
a  smile.  "  Still,  as  I  fancy  you  are  a  stran- 
ger in  these  parts,  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of 
advice." 

"What  is  it,  sir?" 

"  Never  in  future  to  attack  the  peccaries. 
They  are  terrible  enemies,  only  to  be  con- 
quered by  a  strong  body  of  men  ;  and  an  in- 
dividual in  attacking  them  commits  an  un- 
pardonable folly,  to  which  he  must  fall  a 
victim." 

"  Be  assured,  sir,  that  I  shall  profit  by  the 
lesson  I  have  received  this  day,  and  shall 
never  put  myself  in  such  a  wasp's  nest 
again.  I  was'too  near  paying  dearly  for  my 
imprudence.  But  I  beg  you,  sir,  do  not  let 
us  separate  ere  I  know  the  name  of  my  pre- 
server." 

"  As  you  insist,  sir,  you  shall  learn  it.  I 
am  Don  Miguel  de  Zarate." 

The  stranger  took  a  peculiar  glance  at  the 
speaker,  while  repressing  a  movement  of 
surprise. 

u  Ah  !"  he  said  in  a  singular  tone,  "  thanks, 
Don  Miguel  Zarate.  Without  knowing  you 
personally,  I  was  already  acquainted  with 
your  name." 

"That  is  possible,"  the  haciendero  an- 
swered; "for  I  am  well  known  in  this 
country,  where  my  family  has  been  long  es- 
tablished." 

"I,  sir,  am  the  man  whom  the  Indians 
call  Wilchasta  Jonte,  the  Man-eater,  and 
the  hunters,  my  companions,  Red  Cedar." 

And  after  lifting  his  hand  to  his  cap  in  sa- 
lute, this  man  threw  his  rifle  on  his  shoul- 
der, turned  on  his  heel,  and  went  off  at  full 


u 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


while,  and  then  walked  pensively  toward  the 
house  he  inhabited  at  Paso.  The  haeiendero 
did  not  suspect  that  he  had  sacrificed  his 
favorite  horse  to  save  the  life  of  his  most 
implacable  enemy. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    WOUND. 

AT  sunrise  Don  Miguel,  mounted  on  an 
excellent  horse,  left  the  Paso,  and  proceeded 
toward  the  estate  where  he  resided  with 
his  family.  It  was  situated  a  few  miles 
from  the  village,  in  a  delicious  position, 
and  was  known  as  the  Farm  of  the  Well. 
The  estate  inhabited  by  him  stood  in  the 
center  of  the  vast  delta  formed  by  the  Del 
Norte  and  the  Rio  San  Pedro,  or  Devil's 
River.  It  was  a  strong  and  massive  build- 
ing, supported  at  regular  distances  by  enor- 
mous cross  walls  of  carved  stone.  Like  all 
the  frontier  habitations,  which  are  rather 
fortresses  than  houses,  it  was  only  pierced 
on  the  side  of  the  plain  with  a  few  narrow 
windows  resembling  loopholes,  and  protect- 
ed by  solid  iron  bars.  This  abode  was  be- 
girt by  a  thick  wall  of  circum  variation,  de- 
fended on  the  top  by  thai  fretwork  called 
almenas,  which  indicated  the  nobility  of  the 
owner.  Within  this  wall  but  separated 
from  the  chief  apartments,  were  the  stables, 
outhouses,  barns,  and  cabins  for  the  peons. 

At  the  extremity  of  the  court-yard,  in  an 
angle  of  the  hacienda,  was  the  tall  square 
belfry  of  the  chapel,  rising  above  its  terraced 
roof.  This  chapel  was  served  by  a  monk 
called  Fray  Ainbrosio.  A  magnificent  plain 
closed  in  this  splendid  farm.  At  the  end  of 
a  valley  more  than  fifty  miles  in  length 
were  cactus  trees  of  a  conical  shape,  loaded 
with  fruit  and  flowers,  and  whose  stems 
were  as  much  as  six  feet  in  diameter. 

It  was  one  of  those  superb  American 
mornings  during  which  nature  seems  to  be 
holding  a  festival.  The  centzontle  (American 
nightingale)  frequently  poured  forth  its  har- 
monious notes ;  the  red-throstled  cardinals, 
the  blue  birds,  the  parroquets,  chattered 
gayly  beneath  the  foliage ;  far  away  on  the 
plain  galloped  flocks  of  light  antelopes  and 
timid  ashatas  ;  while  on  the  extreme  verge 
of  the  horizon  rushed  startled  droves  of 
wild  horses,  which  raised  clouds  of  impal- 
pable dust  beneath  the  vibration  of  their 
rapid  hoofs.  A  few  alligators,  carelessly 
stretched  out  on  the  river  mud,  were  dry- 
ing their  scales  in  the  sun,  and  in  mid  air  the 
grand  eagles  of  the  Sierra  Madre  hovered 
majestically  above  the  valley. 

Don  Miguel  advanced  rapidly  at  the  favor- 
ite pace  which  consists  in  making  the  horse 
raise  its  front  legs,  while  the  hind  ones  al- 
most graze  the  ground — a  peculiar  sort  of 
amble  which  is  very  gentle  and  rapid.  The 
haeiendero  only  employed  four  hours  in 
traversing  the  distance  separating  him  from 


his  home,  where  he  arrived  about  nine  in 
the  morning.  He  was  received  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  hou?e  by  his  daughter,  who, 
warned  of  his  a;  rival,  had  hastened  to  meet 
him. 

He  had  been  absent  from  home  for  a  fort- 
night;  hence  he  received  his  daughter's 
caresses  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  When 
he  had  embraced  her  several  times,  while 
continuing  to  hold  her  tightly  clasped  in  his 
•arms,  he  regarded  her  attentively  during 
'several  seconds. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Clara ?"  he  asked, 
with  sympathy.  "You  seem  very  sad.  Can 
you  feel  vexed  at  the  sight  of  me?"  he  ad- 
ded, with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  you  can  not  believe  that,  father!" 
she  answered,  quickly ;  "  for  you  know  how 
happy  your  presence  must  render  me." 

"  Thanks,  my  child !  But  whence,  in  that 
case,  comes  the  sorrow  I  see  spread  over 
your  features  ?" 

The  maiden  let  her  eyes  sink,  but  made 
no  reply.  Don  Miguel  threw  a  searching 
glance  around. 

"  Where  is  Don  Pablo  ?"  he  said.  "  Why 
has  he  not  come  to  greet  me  ?  Can  he  be 
away  from  home  ?" 

'No,  father,  he  is  here." 
Well,  then,  what  is  the  reason  he  is  not 
by  your  side?" 

'  Because— "the  girl  said,  with  hesitation. 
'Well?" 
'  He  is  ill." 

'  My  son  ill !"  Don  Miguel  exclaflned. 
'  I  am  wrong,"  Clara  corrected  herself. 
'Explain  vourself,  in  heaven's  name!" 
'My  father,   the  fact  is    that    Pablo  is 
wounded." 

' '  Wound  eel ! "  the  father  sha  rply  said ;  and 
thrusting  his  daughter  aside,  he  rushed  to- 
ward the  house,  bounded  up  the  few  steps 
leading  to  the  porch,  crossed  several  rooms 
without  stopping,  and  reached  his  son's 
chamber.  The  young  man  was  lying,  weak 
and  faint,  on  his  bed  ;  but  on  perceiving  his 
parent  he  smiled,  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
him.  Don  Miguel  was  fondly  attached  to 
his  son,  his  sole  heir,  and  walked  up  to  him. 

"What  is  this  wound  of  which  I  have 
heard  ?"  he  asked  him,  in  great  agitation. 

"Less  than  nothing,  father,"  the  young 
man  replied,  exchanging  a  meaning  glance 
with  his  sister,  who  entered  at  the  moment. 
"  Clara  is  a  foolish  girl,  who,  in  her  tender- 
ness, wrongly  alarmed  you." 

"But,  after  all,  you  are  wounded?"  the 
father  continued. 

"  But  I  repeat  that  it  is  a  mere  nothing." 

"  Come,  explain  yourself.  How  and  when 
did  j'ou  receive  this  wound  ?" 

The  young  man  blushed,  and  maintained 
silence. 

"I  insist  on  knowing,"  Don  Miguel  con- 
tinued, pressingly. 

"Good  heavens,  father !"  Don  Pablo  re- 
plied, with  an  air  of  ill-humor,  "  I  do  not 
understand  why  you  are  alarmed  for  BO 


BUFFALO  VALLEY. 


15 


futile  a  cause.  I  am  not  a  child,  whom  a 
scratch  should  make  frightened ;  and  many 
times  have  I  been  wounded  previously,  and 
you  have  not  disturbed  yourself  so  much." 

"  That  is  possible  ;  but  the  mode  in  which 
you  answer  me,  the  care  you  seem  to  take 
to  keep  me  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  this 
wound — in  a  word,  every  thing  tells  me  that 
this  time  you  arc  trying  to  hide  something 
grave  from  me." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  father,  and  shall 
convince  yourself." 

"  I  wish  nothing  more :  speak.  Clara, 
my  child,  go  and  give  orders  to  have  break- 
fast prepared,  for  I  am  dying  of  hunger." 

The  girl  went  out. 

u  Now  it  is  our  turn,"  Don  Miguel  con- 
tinued. "  In  the  first  place,  where  are  you 
wounded?" 

u  Oh !  I  have  merely  a  slight  scratch  on 
my  shoulder  :  if  I  went  to  bed  it  was  more 
through  indolence  than  any  other  motive." 

"Hum!  and  what  scratched  your  shoul- 
der?" 

"A  bullet." 

"What!  a  bullet?  Then  yon  must  have 
fought  a  duel,  unhappy  boy?"  Don  Miguel 
exclaimed,  with  a  shudder. 

The  young  man  smiled,  pressed  his  father's 
hand,  and  bending  toward  him,  said : 

"This  is  what  has  happened." 

"  I  am  listening  to  you,"  Don  Miguel 
replied,  making  an  effort  to  calm  himself. 

"Two  days  after  your  departure,  father, 
I  was  superintending,  as  you  wished  me  to 
do,  the  cutting  of  the  cane  crop,  when  a 
hunter  whom  you  will  probably  remember 
having  seen  prowling  about  the  estate,  a 
man  of  the  name  of  Andres  Garote,  accos- 
ted me  at  the  moment  I  was  about  to  re- 
turn home  after  giving  my  orders  to  the 
major-domo.  After  saluting  me  obsequi- 
ously, according  to  his  wont,  the  scamp 
smiled  cunningly,  and  lowering  his  voice  so 
as  not  to  be  overheard  by  those  around  us, 
said,  '  Don  Pablo,  I  fancy  you  would  give 
half  an  ounce  to  the  man  wlfo  brought  you 
important  news?'  'That  depends/  I  an- 
swered ;  for,  having  known  the  man  a  long 
time,  I  was  aware  much  confidence  could 
not  be  placed  in  him.  '  Bah !  you  are  so 
rich,'  he  continued,  insidiously,  'that  a 
miserable  sum  like  that  is  less  than  nothing 
In  your  pocket,  while  in  mine  it  would  do 
me  a  deal  of  good.' 

"  Apart  from  his  defects,  this  scamp  had 
at  times  done  us  a  few  small  services  ;  and 
then,  as  he  said,  a  half-ounce  is  but  a  trifie, 
BO  I  gave  it  to  him.  lie  stowed  it  away  in 
his  pockets,  and  then  bent  down  to  my  ear. 
'  Thanks,'  he  said  to  me.  '  I  shall  not  cheat 
you  of  your  money.  Your  horse  is  rested, 
and  can  stand  a  long  journey.  Proceed  to 
Buffalo  Vulley,  and  there  you  will  learn 
something  to  interest  you.'  It  was  in  vain 
that  I  urged  him  to  explain  himself  more 
clearly ;  1  could  draw  no  more  from  him. 
He  merely  added  before  parting  from  me, 


'  You  have  good  weapons ;  BO  take  them 
with  you,  for  no  man  knoweth  what  may 
happen.'  Somehow  the  scamp's  vailed 
confidences  aroused  my  curiosity :  hence  I 
resolved  to  go  to  Buffalo  Valley,  and  gain 
the  clue  of  this  riddle." 

"Andre's  Garote  is  a  villain,  who  laid  a 
snare  for  you,  into  which  you  fell,"  Don 
Miguel  interrupted. 

"  No,  father,  you  are  mistaken.  Andre's 
was  honest  toward  me,  and  I  have  only 
thanks  to  give  him.  Still  he  should  have 
explained  himself,  perhaps,  more  distinctly." 

The  listener  shook  his  head  with  a  doubt- 
ing air. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"  I  entered  my  house,  procured  the  weap- 
ons, and  then,  mounted  on  Negro,  my  black 
charger,  I  proceeded  toward  Buffalo  Valley. 
As  you  are  aware,  father,  the  place  we  call 
so,  and  which  belongs  to  us,  is  an  immense 
forest  of  cedars  and  maples,  nearly  forty 
miles  in  circumference,  and  traversed  almost 
through  its  entire  length  by  a  wide  conflu- 
ent of  the  Rio  San  Pedro." 

"Of  course  I  know  it,  and  I  intend  next 
year  to.fell  some  of  the  wood  there." 

"You  need  not  take  that  trouble,"  the 
young  man  said,  with  a  smile,  "  for  some 
one  else  has  done  it  for  you." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  haciendero 
asked,  wrathfully.  "  Who  has  dared  ?" 

"Oh!  one  of  those  wretched  heretic 
squatters,  as  they  call  themselves.  The 
villain  found  the  spot  to  suit  him,  and  has 
quietly  settled  there  with  his  whelps — three 
big  fellows  with  hang-dog  faces,  who 
laughed  at  me  when  I  told  them  that  the 
forest  was  mine,  and  answered,  while  aiming 
at  me,  that  they  were  North  Americans, 
who  cared  as  little  for  me  as  they  did  for  a 
coyote ;  that  the  ground  belonged  to  the 
first  comer ;  and  that  I  should  afford  them 
lively  pleasure  by  being  off"  at  full  speed. 
What  more  shall  I  tell  you,  father  ?  I  take 
after  you.  I  have  hot  blood,  and  I  cordially 
hate  that  race  of  Yankee  pirates,  who,  for 
some  years  back,  have  settled  on  our  lovely 
country  like  a  swarm  of  musquitoes.  I  saw 
our  forest  plundered,  our  finest  trees-  cut 
down.  I  could  not  remain  unmoved  in  the 
presence  of  these  scoundrels'  insolence,  and 
the  quarrel  became  so  sharp  that  they  fired 
at  me." 

"They  shall  pay  dearly  for  the  affront 
they  have  offered  you,  I  swear  it !  I  will 
take  an  exemplary  vengeance,"  Don  Miguel 
exclaimed,  in  a  fury. 

"  Why  be  so  angry,  father?"  the  young 
man  replied,  visibly  annoyed  at  the  effect 
his  story  had  produced.  "The  harm  these 
people  do  us  is  really  very  trifling.  1  was 
in  the  wrong  to  let  my  passion  carry  me 
away." 

"  On  the  contrary  you  were  right.  I  will 
not  have  these  Northern  thieves  come  and 
commit  their  plunder  here.  I  will  put  a 
stop  to  it." 


16 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"I  assure  you  that,  if  you  will  leave  me 
to  act,  I  feel  certain  of  arranging  this  affair 
to  your  satisfaction." 

"  I  forbid  you  taking  the  slightest  steps, 
for  this  matter  concerns  me  now.  What- 
ever may  occur,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  inter- 
fere. Will  you  promise  me  this  ?" 

"  As  you  insist,  I  do  so,  father." 

"  Very  good.  Get  cured  as  speedily  as 
possible,  and  keep  your  mind  at  rest.  The 
Yankees  shall  pay  me  dearly  for  the  blood 
they  have  shed." 

With  these  words  Don  Miguel  retired, 
and  his  son  fell  back  ou  his  bed  stifling  a 
sigh,  and  uttering  a  hoarse  exclamation  of 
passion. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  SQUATTER'S  SHANTY. 

DON  PABLO  had  not  told  his  father  the  facts 
in  all  their  truth  or  detail.  He  had  fallen  into 
a  perfect  ambuscade.  He  was  suddenly  at- 
tacked by  the  three  brothers,  who  would 
have  mercilessly  killed  him,  resolved  to  lay 
the  blame  of  his  death  on  the  wild 
beasts,  bad  not,  at  the  moment  when 
one  of  them  lifted  his  knife  on  the 
young  man,  who  was  thrown  down  and  ren- 
clerea  motionless  by  the  others,  a  providen- 
tial succor  reached  him  in  the  person  of  a 
charming  maid  scarce  sixteen  years  of 
age. 

The  courageous  girl  rushed  from  a  copse 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  fawn,  and  threw  her- 
self resolutely  into  the  midst  of  the  assas- 
sins. 

44  What  are  you  about,  brothers  ?"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  melodious  voice.  "  Why  do 
you  wish  to  kill  this  stranger?" 

The  three  squatters,  surprised  by  this  ap- 
parition, which  they  were  far  from  expect- 
ing, fell  back  a  few  paces.  Don  Pablo  pro- 
lited  by  this  truce  to  jump  up  and  regain 
possession  of  his  arms,  which  had  fallen  by 
his  side. 

"  Was  it  not  enough,"  the  girl  continued, 
"  to  rob  this  man,  that  you  must  now  try- 
to  take  his  life  ?  Fie,  brothers !  Do  you 
not  know  that  blood  leaves  on  the  hands  of 
him  who  spills  it  stains  which  nothing  can 
efface  ?  Let  this  man  retire  in  peace." 

The  young  men  hesitated.  Although  un- 
consciously yielding  to  their  sister's  influ- 
ence, they  were  ashamed  of  thus  executing 
her  wishes.  Still  they  did  not  dare  express 
their  thoughts,  and  merely  bent  on  their 
enemy,  who  awaited  them  with  a  firm  foot 
and  pistols  in  hand,  glances  laden  with  ha- 
tred and  anger. 

"Ellen  is  right,"  the  youngest  of  her 
brothers  suddenly  said.  "  No,  1  will  not  al- 
low any  harm  to  be  done  the  stranger." 

The  others  looked  at  him  savagely. 

"  You  would  defend  him,  if  necessary,  I 
suppose,  Shaw  ?"  Nathan  said  to  him,  ironi- 
cally. 


"Why should  I  not,  were  it  required?" 
the  young  man  said,  boldly. 

"Eh!'r  Sutter  remarked  with  a  grin, 
"he  is  thinking  of  the  Wood  Eglantine." 

This  word  had  been  scarce  uttered  ere 
Shaw,  with  purpled  face,  contracted  features, 
and  eyes  injected  with  blood,  rushed  with 
uplifted  knife  on  his  brother,  who  awaited 
him  firmly.  The  girl  dashed  between  them. 

"Peace,  peace!"  she  shrieked  in  a  pierc- 
ing voice.  "  Do  brothers  dare  threaten  one 
another?" 

The  two  young  fellows  remained  motion- 
less, but  watching,  and  ready  to  strike  in  a 
moment.  Don  Pablo  fixed  an  ardent  glance 
on  the  girl,  who  was  really  admirable  at  this 
moment.  With  her  features  animated  by 
anger,  her  head  erect,  and  her  arms  stretch- 
ed out  between  the  two  men,  she  bore  a 
startling  likeness  to  those  Druidesses  who 
in  olden  times  summoned  the  warriors  to 
combat  beneath  the  forests  of  Germany. 

In  her  whole  person  she  offered  the  com- 

S'ete  type  of  the  gentle  Northern  woman, 
er  hair  light  and  golden  like  ripe  corn; 
her  eyes  of  extreme  purity,  which  reflected 
the  azure  of  the  sky ;  her  earnest  mouth, 
with  rosy  lips  and  pearly  teeth ;  her  flexible 
and  small  waist ;  the  whiteness  of  her  com- 
plexion, whose  delicate  and  transparent 
skin  still  bore  the  flush  of  adolescence — all 
was  combined  in  this  charming  maiden  to 
render  her  the  most  seductive  creature  im- 
aginable. 

Don  Pablo,  a  stranger  to  this  kind  of 
beauty,  felt  himself  involuntarily  attracted 
toward  the  girl.  Forgetting  the  reason 
that  had  brought  him  to  this  spot,  the  dan- 
ger he  had  incurred,  and  that  which  still 
menaced  him,  he  was  fascinated  and  trem- 
bling before  this  delicious  apparition,  fear- 
ing at  each  instant  to  see  it  vanish  like  a  vi- 
sion, and  not  daring  to  turn  his  glance  from 
her,  while  he  felt  he  had  no  strength  left  to 
admire  her. 

This  young  creature,  so  frail  and  delicate, 
formed  a  strange  contrast  with  the  tall  stat- 
ures and  marked  features  of  her  brothers, 
whose  coarse  and  savage  manners  only  ser?- 
ed  to  highten  the  elegance  and  charm  ex- 
haled by  her  whole  person.  Still  this  scene 
could  not  be  prolonged,  and  must  be  ended 
at  once.  The  maiden  walked  toward  Don 
Pablo. 

"  Sir,"  she  said  to  him  with  a  soft  smile, 
"  you  have  nothing  more  to  fear  from  my 
brothers ;  you  can  mount  your  horse  agaiu, 
and  set  out,  and  no  one  will  oppose  your  de- 
parture." 

The  young  man  understood  that  he  had  no 
pretext  to  prolong  his  stay  at  this  spot ;  he 
therefore  let  his  head  sink,  placed  his  pistols 
in  his  holsters,  leaped  on  his  horse,  and  set 
out  with  regret,  and  as  slowly  as  possible. 

He  had  scarce  gone  a  league  when  he 
heard  the  hasty  clatter  of  a  horse  behind 
him.  He  turned  back.  The  approaching 
horseman  was  Shaw,  wh,o  soon  caught  up  to 


TKB  BQUATTBR&  HUT. 


17 


the  other.  The  pair  then  proceeded  some 
distance  side  by  side  without  exchanging  a 
syllable,  and  both  seemed  plunged  in  pro- 
found thought.  On  reaching  the  skirt  of 
the  forest,  Shaw  checked  his  horse,  and 
softly  laid  his  right  hand  on  the  Mexican's 
bridle.  Don  Pablo  also  stopped  on  this 
hint,  and  waited,  while  fixing  an  inquiring 
glance  on  his  strange  comrade. 

"Stranger,"  the  young  man  said,  "my 
sister  sends  me.  She  implores  you,  if  it  be 
possible,  to  keep  secret  what  occurred  be- 
tween us  to-day.  She  deeply  regrets  the  at- 
tack to  which  you  fell  a  victim,  and  the 
wound  you  have  received ;  and  she  will  try 
to  persuade  Red  Cedar,  our  father,  to  retire 
from  your  estates." 

"Thank  your  sister  for  me,"  Don  Pablo 
answered.     "  Tell    her  that    her    slightest 
wish  will  be  ever  a  command  to  me,  and 
that  I  shall  be  happy  to  execute  it." 
'I  will  repeat  your  words  to  her." 

Thanks.      Rendtr   me    a   parting   ser- 
vice." 

Speak." 

What  is  your  sister's  name  ?" 
'  Ellen.     She  is  the  guardian  angel  of  our 
hearth.     My  name  is  Shaw." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you  for  telling  me  your 
name,  though  I  can  not  guess  the  reason 
that  induces  you  to  do  so." 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  love  my  sister  Ellen 
before  all :  she  urged  me  to  offer  you  my 
friendship.  I  obey  her.  Remember,  stran- 
ger, that  Shawls  yours  to  the  death." 

"  I  shall  not  forget  it,  though  I  hope  never 
to  be  under  the  necessity  of  reminding  you 
of  your  words." 

"All  the  worse,"  the  American  said  with 
a  shake  of  his  head;  "but  if  at  anytime 
the  opportunity  offers,  I  will  prove  to  you 
that  I  am  a  man  of  my  word,  so  surely  as  I 
am  a  Kentuckian." 

And  hurriedly  turning  his  horse's  head, 
the  young  man  rapidly  disappeared  in  the 
windings  of  the  forest. 

Buffalo  Valley,  illumined  by  the  parting 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  seemed  a  lake  of 
verdure  to  which  the  golden  mists  of  night 
imparted  magical  tones.  A  light  breeze 
rustled  through  the  lofty  crests  of  the  ce- 
dars, catalpas,  tulip  and  Peru  trees,  and  agi- 
tated the  grass.  Don  Pablo  let  the  reins 
float  idly  on  his  horse's  neck,  and  advanced 
dreamily  through  the  forest,  where  the  birds 
were  leaping  from  spray  to  spray,  each  salut- 
ing in  its  language  the  arrival  of  night. 

An  hour  later  the  young  man  reached 
home ;  but  the  wound  he  nad  received  in 
his  shoulder  was  more  serious  than  at  first 
supposed.  He  was  obliged,  to  his  great  re- 
gret, to  keep  his  bed,  which  prevented  him 
seeking  to  meet  again  the  maiden  whose  im- 
age was  deeply  engraven  on  his  heart. 

So  soon  as  the  owner  had  gone  off,  the 
squatters  continued  felling  trees  and  sawing 
planks,  and  did  not  abandon  this  work  till 
the  night  had  grown  quite  black.  Ellen 


had  returned  to  the  interior  of  the  housfe, 
where  she  attended  to  the  housekeeping  du- 
ties with  her  mother.  This  was  a  wretched 
hut,  hastily  made  with  branches  of  inter- 
twined trees,  which  trembled  with  every 
breeze,  and  let  the  sun  and  rain  penetrate  to 
the  interior. 

This  cabin  was  divided  into  three  com- 
partments :  the  one  to  the  right  served  as 
the  bedroom  of  the  two  females,  while  the 
men  slept  in  the  one  to  the  left.  The  cen- 
tral compartment,  furnished  with  worm-eat- 
en benches  and  a  clumsily-planed,  table,  was 
at  once  keeping-room  and  kitchen. 

It  was  late:  the  squatters,  assembled 
round  the  fire,  over  which  a  huge  iron  pot  was 
boiling,  were  silently  awaiting  the  return  of 
Red  Cedar,  who  had  been  absent  since  the 
morning.  At  length  a  horse's  hoofs  sound- 
ed on  the  detritus  collected  for  years  on  the 
floor  of  the  forest,  the  noise  grew  gradually 
nearer,  the  horse  stopped  in  front  of  the 
hut,  and  a  man  made  his  appearance.  It 
was  Red  Cedar.  The  men  slowly  turned 
their  heads  toward  him,  but  did  not  other- 
wise disturb  themselves,  or  address  a  syllable 
to  him. 

Ellen  alone  rose  and  embraced  her  father 
affectionately.  The  giant  seized  the  girl  in 
his  nervous  arms,  raised  her  from  the  ground, 
and  kissed  her  several  times,  saying  in  his 
rough  voice,  which  his  tenderness  sensibly 
softened : 

"  Good-evening,  my  dear." 

Then  he  put  her  down  on  the  ground  again, 
and  not  troubling  himself  further  about 
her,  fell  heavily  on  a  bench,  and  thrust  his 
feet  toward  the  fire. 

"  Come,  wife,"  he  said,  after  the  expiration 
of  a  moment,  "  the  supper,  in  the  fiend's 
name  !  I  have  a  coyote's  hunger." 

The  wife  did  not  let  this  be  repeated.  A 
few  moments  later  a  huge  dish  of  fried  pork 
with  beans  smoked  on  the  table,  with  large 
pots  of  coffee.  The  meal  was  short  and  si- 
lent, the  four  men  eating  with  extreme  ra- 
pacity. So  soon  as  the  beans  had  disap- 
peared, Red  Cedar  and  his  sons  lit  their  pipes 
and  began  smoking,  though  still  not  speak- 
ing. At  length  Red  Cedar  took  his  pipe 
from  his  lips,  and  hit  the  table  sharply, 
while  saying,  in  a  rough  voice.: 

"Come,  women,  decamp !  You  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  here.  You  are  in  our  way, 
sojgo  to  the  deuce  !" 

Ellen  and  her  mother  immediately  went 
out,  and  entered  their  separate  apartment. 
For  a  few  minutes  they  could  be  heard  mov- 
ing^ about,  and  then  all  became  silent  again. 

Red  Cedar  made  a  sign,  and  Sutter  rose 
and  gently  put  his  ear  to  the  parting  board. 
He  listened  for  a  few  moments  while  holding 
his  breath,  and  then  returned  to  his  seat, 
saying  laconically : 

"They  are  asleep." 

"  Quick,  my  whelps !"  the  old  squatter 
said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  We  have  not  a  min- 
ute to  lose ;  the  others  are  expecting  us." 


THB  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


A  curious  se*ne  then  occurred  in  this 
mean  room,  which  was  nearly  illumined  by 
the  expiring  light  of  the  hearth.  The  four 
men  rose,  opened  a  large  chest,  and  pro- 
duced from  it  various  objects  of  strange 
shapes — leggings,  mittens,  buffalo-robes,  col- 
lars of  gri/.zly  bear  claws ;  in  a  word,  the 
complete  costume  of  Apache  Indians. 

The  squatters  disguised  themselves  as 
red-skins  ;  and  when  they  had  put  on  their 
garments,  which  rendered  it  impossible  to 
recognize  them,  they  completed  the  meta- 
morphosis by  painting  their  faces  of  differ- 
ent colors. 

Assuredly  the  traveler  whom  accident 
had  brought  at  this  moment  to  the  hut 
would  have  fancied  it  inhabited  by  Apaches 
or  Comanches. 

The  garments  which  the  squatters  had 
taken  off  were  locked  up  in  the  chest,  of 
which  Red  Cedar  took  the  key;  and  the 
four  men,  armed  with  their  American  rifles, 
left  the  cabin,  mounted  their  horses,  which 
were  awaiting  them  ready  saddled,  and 
started  at  full  gallop  through  the  winding 
forest-paths. 

At  the  moment  they  disappeared  in  the 
gloom  Ellen  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the 
cabin,  took  a  despairing  glance  in  the  di- 
rection where  they  had  gone,  and  fell  to  the 
ground,  murmuring  sadly : 

"  Good  Heaven !  what  diabolical  work  are 
they  going  to  perform  this  night  ?" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TELE  KANGEBS. 

ON  the  banks  of  the  Rio  San  Pedro,  and 
on  the  side  of  a  hill,  stood  a  village  com- 
posed of  some  ten  cabins,  inhabited  by  a 
population  of  sixty  persons  at  the  most,  in- 
cluding men,  women,  and  children.  These 
people  were  Coras  Indians,  hunters  and 
agriculturists,  belonging  to  the  Tortoise 
tribe.  These  poor  Indians  lived  there  on 
terms  of  peace  with  their  neighbors,  under 
the  protection  of  the  Mexican  laws.  Quiet 
and  inoffensive  beings,  during  the  nearly 
twenty  years  they  had  been  established  at 
this  place  they  had  never  once  offered  a  sub- 
ject of  complaint  to  their  neighbors,  who, 
on  the  contrary,  were  glad  to  see  them  pros- 
per, owing  to  their  gentle  and  hospitable 
manners. 

On  the  night  when  we  saw  the  squatters 
leave  their  cabin  in  disguise,  some  twenty 
individuals,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  clothed 
in  strange  costume,  with  their  faces  black- 
ened so  as  to  render  them  unrecognizable, 
were  bivouacked  at  about  two  leagues  from 
the  village,  in  a  plain  on  a  river's  bank. 
Seated  or  lying  round  huge  fires,  they  were 
singing,  laughing,  quarreling,  or  gambling, 
with  multitudinous  yells  and  oaths.  Two 
men,  seated  apart  at  the  foot  of  an  enor- 
mous cactus,  were  conversing  in  a  low  tone, 


while  smoking  their  husk  cigarettes.  These 
two  men,  of  whom  we  have  already  spoken 
te  the  reader,  were  Fray  Ambrosio,  chaplain 
to  the  farm,  and  Andres  Garote,  the  hunter. 

Andres  was  a  tall,  thin  fellow,  with  a  sick- 
ly and  cunning  face,  who  draped  himself 
defiantly  in  his  sordid  rags,  but  whose 
weapons  were  in  a  perfectly  good  condition. 

Who  were  the  men  causing  this  disturb- 
ance? They  were  "  rangers ,  but  this  re- 
quires explanation. 

Immediately  after  each  of  the  different 
revolutions  which  have  periodically  over- 
turned Mexico  since  that  country  so  pomp- 
ously declared  its  independence,  the  first 
care  of  the  new  President  who  reaches 
power  is  to  dismiss  the  volunteers  who  had 
accidentally  swollen  the  ranks  of  his  army, 
and  supplied  him  the  means  of  overthrowing 
his  predecessor.  These  sanguinary  men, 
without  religion  or  law,  who  have  no  re- 
lations or  friends,  are  an  utter  leprosy  to  the 
country. 

No  longer  able  to  wage  war  on  their 
countrymen,  they  form  free  corps,  and  en- 
gage themselves  for  a  certain  salary,  to  hunt 
the  Indios  Bravos — that  is  to  say,  the  Apa- 
ches and  Comanches  —  who  desolate  the 
Mexican  frontiers.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
paternal  government  of  North  America  in 
Texas,  and  of  Mexico  in  the  States  of  the 
Confederation,  allots  them  a  certain  sum 
for  each  Indian  scalp  they  bring  in. 

The  men  assembled  at  this  moment  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  were  preparing  for  a  war- 
party — the  name  they  give  to  the  massacres 
they  organize  against  the  red-skins. 

Toward  midnight  Red  Cedar  and  his  three 
sons  reached  the  rangers'  camp.  They 
must  have  been  impatiently  expected,  for 
the  bandits  received  them  with  marks  of 
the  greatest  joy  and  the  warmest  enthusiasm. 
The  dice  and  cards  were  immediately  de- 
serted. The  rangers  mounted  their  horses, 
and  grouped  round  the  squatters,  near  whom 
stood  Fray  Ambrosio  and  his  friend  Andres 
Garote. 

Red  Cedar  took  a  glance  round  the  mob, 
and  could  not  repress  a  smile  of  pride  at  the 
sight  of  the  rich  collection  of  bandits  of 
every  description  whom  he  had  around  him, 
and  who  recognized  him  as  chief.  He  ex- 
tended his  arm  to  command  peace.  When 
all  were  silent  the  giant  took  the  word. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  in  a  powerful  and 
marked  voice,  "the  audacity  of  the  red- 
skins is  growing  intolerable.  If  we  let  them 
alone  they  would  soon  inundate  the  country, 
when  they  would  end  by  expelling  us.  This 
state  of  things  must  have  an  end.  I  have 
assembled  you  here  for  a  war-party,  which 
1  have  been  meditating  for  some  time,  and 
shall  carry  out  this  night.  We  are  about  to 
attack  the  Coras,  who  for  some  years  past 
have  had  the  impudence  to  establish  them- 
selves near  this  spot.  They  are  pagans  and 
thieves,  who  have  one  hundred  times  merit- 
ed the  severe  chastisement  we  are  about  to 


A  80ENE  'OF  CARNAGE. 


19 


inflict  on  them.  But  I  implore  you,  dis- 
play no  mistaken  pity.  Crush  this  race  of 
vipers — let  not  one  escape !  The  scalp  of  a 
child  is  worth  as  much  as  that  of  a  man  ; 
*o  do  not  let  yourselves  be  moved  by  cries  or 
tears,  but  scalp,  scalp  to  the  end." 
This  harangue  was  greeted  by  yells  of 

,°y. 

Red  Cedar  then  whispered  a  few  words  in 
Fray  Ambrosio's  ears,  who  bowed  his  head 
in  assent,  and  immediately  set  out  in  the 
direction  of  the  Coras  villages,  followed  by 
Andres  Garote.  The  squatter  then  turned 
to  the  rangers,  who  were  awaiting  his  or- 
ders. 

"  You  know  where  we  are  going,  men," 
he  said.  "  Let  us  start,  and  before  all,  be 
silent,  if  we  wish  to  catch  our  game  in  its 
lair ;  for  you  know  that  the  Indians  are  as 
cunning  as  opossums." 

The  band  started  at  a  gallop,  Red  Cedar 
and  his  sons  being  at  their  head.  It  was 
one  of  those  calm  nights  which*  predispose 
the  soul  to  reverie,  such  as  America  alone 
has  the  privilege  of  possessing.  The  dark- 
blue  sky  was  spangled  with  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  stars,  in  the  center  of  which  shone 
the  majestic  Southern  Cross,  sparkling  like 
a  king's  mantle. 

The  gloomy  horsemen  still  went  on,  silent 
and  frowning,  like  the  phantoms  of  the  an- 
cient legends,  which  glide  through  the 
shadows  to  accomplish  a  deed  without  a 
name.  At  the  end  of  scarce  an  hour  the 
doomed  settlement  was  reached.  All  were 
resting  in  the  village— not  a  light  flashed  in 
a  hut.  The  Indians,  wearied  with  the  hard 
toil  of  the  day,  were  reposing,  full  of  confi- 
dence in  the  sworn  faith,  and  apprehending 
no  treason. 

Red  Cedar  halted  twenty  yards  away,  and 
drew  up  his  horsemen  so  as  to  surround  the 
village  on  all  sides.  When  each  had  taken 
his  post,  and  the  torches  were  lighted,  Red 
Cedar  uttered  the  terrible  war-cry  of  the 
Apaches,  and  the  rangers  galloped  at  full 
speed  on  the  village,  uttering  ferocious 
howls,  and  brandishing  the  torches,  which 
they  threw  on  the  cabins. 

A  scene  of  carnage  then  took  place  which 
the  human  pen  is  powerless  to  describe. 
The  unhappy  Indians,  surprised  in  their 
sleep,  rushed  terrified  and  half-naked  out  of 
their  poor  abodes,  and  were  pitilessly  mas- 
sacred and  scalped  by  the  rangers.  The  vil- 
lage, fired  by  the  rangers'  torches,  soon  be- 
came an  immense  funeral  pile,  in  which 
victims  and  murderers  were  huddled  pell- 
mell. 

Still  a  few  Indians  had  succeeded  in  col- 
lecting. Forming  in  a  compact  troop  of 
twenty  men,  they  opposed  a  desperate  re- 
sistance to  their  assassins.  At  the  head  of 
this  band  was  a  half-nude,  tall  Indian  of  in- 
telligent features,  who,  with  a  plowshare, 
which  he  wielded  with  extreme  force  and 
skill,  felled  all  the  assailants  who  came  with- 
in reach  of  his  terrible  weapon.  This  man 


was  the  chief  of  the  Coras.  At  his  feet  lay 
his  mother,  wife,  and  two  children— dead. 
The  unhappy  man  struggled  with  the  en- 
ergy of  despair.  He  knew  his  life  would  be 
sacrificed,  but  he  wished  to  sell  it  as  dearly 
as  possible. 

In  vain  had  the  rangers  fired  on  the  chief- 
he  seemed  invulnerable :  not  one  of  the 
bullets  had  struck  him.  He  still  fought, 
and  the  weight  of  his  weapon  did  not  seem 
to  fatigue  his  arm.  The  rangers  excited 
each  other  to  finish  him  ;  but  not  one  dared 
to  approach  him. 

But  this  combat  of  giants  could  not  en- 
dure longer.  Of  the  twenty  companions  he 
had  round  him  on  commencing  the  struggle 
the  chief  now  only  saw  two  or  three  upright : 
the  rest  were  dead.  There  must  be  an  end. 
The  circle  that  inclosed  the  hapless  Indian 
drew  closer  and  closer.  Henceforth  it  was 
only  a  question  of  time  with  him.  The  ran- 
gers, recognizing  the  impossibility  of  con- 
quering this  lion-hearted  man,  had  ehanged 
their  tactics  :  they  no  longer  attacked  him, 
but  contented  themselves  with  forming  an 
impassable  circle  round  him,  waiting  pru- 
dently for  the  moment  when  the  strength  of 
the  prey,  which  could  not  escape  them, 
was  exhausted,  in  order  to  rush  upon 
him. 

The  Coras  understood  the  intention  of 
his  enemies.  A  contemptuous  smile  con- 
tracted his  haughty  lips,  and  he  rushed  res- 
olutely toward  these  men  who  recoiled  be- 
fore him.  Suddenly,  with  a  movement  quick- 
er than  thought,  he  threw  with  extraordi- 
nary strength  the  plowshare  among  the 
rangers,  and  bounding  like  a  panther,  leap- 
ed on  a  horse,  and  clutched  its  rider  with 
superhuman  vigor. 

Ere  the  rangers  had  recovered  .from  the 
surprise  this  unforeseen  attack  occasioned  in 
them,  by  a  desperate  effort,  and  still  holding 
the  horseman,  the  chieftain  drew  from  his 
girdle  a  short,  sharp  knife,  which  he  buried 
up  to  the  hilt  in  the  flanks  of  the  horse. 
The  animal  uttered  a  shriek  of  pain,  rushed 
headlong  into  the  crowd,  and  bore  both 
away  with  maddening  speed. 

The  rangers,  rendered  furious  at  being 
played  with  by  a  single  man,  and  seeing 
their  most  terrible  enemy  escape  them, 
started  in  pursuit;  but  with  his  liberty  the 
Coras  had  regained  all  his  energy :  he  felt 
himself  saved.  In  spite  of  the  "desperate 
efforts  the  rangers  made  to  catch  him  up, 
he  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

The  chief  continued  to  fly  till  he  felt  the 
horse  tottering  under  him.  He  had  not 
loosed  his  hold  of  the  horseman,  who  was 
half  strangled  by  the  rude  embrace,  and 
both  rolled  on  the  ground.  This  man  wore 
the  costume  of  the  Apache  Indians.  The 
Coras  regarded  him  for  an  instant  attentive- 
ly, and  then  a  smile  of  contempt  played 
round  his  lips. 

"You  are  not  a  red-skin,"  he  said  in  a 
hollow  voice ;  "  you  are  only  a  pale-free  dog. 


TBS  SILEHT-HUtfTEK. 


Why  put  on  the  skin  of  the  lion  when  you 
are  a  cowardly  coyote?" 

The  ranger,  still  stunned  by  the  fall  he 
had  suffered,  and  the  hug  he  had  endured, 
did  not  reply. 

41 1  could  kill  you,"  the  Indian  continued  ; 
"  but  my  vengeance  would  not  be  complete. 
You  and  yours  must  pay  me  for  all  the  inno- 
cent blood  you  have  shed  like  cowards  this 
night.  I  will  mark  you,  so  that  I  may  know 
you  again." 

Then,  with  fearful  coolness,  the  Coras 
threw  the  ranger  on  his  back,  put  his  knee 
on  his  chest,  and  burying  his  finger  in  the 
pocket  of  his  eye,  gave  it  a  sharp  rotatory 
movement,  and  plucked  out  his  eye-ball. 
On  this  frightful  mutilation  the  wretch  ut- 
tered a  cry  of  pain  impossible  to  describe. 
The  Indian  got  up. 

"  Go !"  he  said  to  him.  "  Now  I  am  cer- 
tain of  finding  you  whenever  I  want  you." 

At  this  moment  the  sound  of  hoofs  could 
be  heard  a  short  distance  off:  the  rangers 
had  evidently  heard  their  comrade's  cry,  and 
were  hurrying  to  his  aid.  The  Coras  rushed 
into  the  bushes  and  disappeared.  A  few 
moments  later  the  rangers  came  up. 

"  Nathan,  my  son  !''  Red  Cedar  shouted, 
as  he  leaped  from  his  horse  and  threw  him- 
self on  the  body  of  the  wounded.  "  Nathan, 
my  first-born,  is  dead!" 

"  No,"  one  of  the  rangers  answered ;  "but 
he  ic  very  bad." 

It  was  really  the  squatter's  eldest  son 
whom  the  chief  had  mutilated.  Red  Cedar 
seized  him  in  his  arms,  placed  him  before 
him  on  the  saddle,  and  the  band  started 
again  at  a  gallop.  The  rangers  had  accom- 
plished their  task :  they  had  sixty  human 
scalps  hanging  from  their  girdles.  The  vil- 
lage of  the  Coras  was  no  longer  aught  save 
a  pile  of  ashes. 

Of  all  the  inhabitants  only  the  chief  sur- 
vived ;  but  he  would  suffice  to  avenge  his 
brothers. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  TUB  BUFFALO. 

DON  MIGUEL  ZARATE,  on  leaving  his  son, 
remounted  his  horse  and  rode  straight  to 
Paso,  to  the  house  of  Don  Luciano  Perez, 
the  police  magistrate. 

The  worthy  Don  Luciano  shuddered  on 
hearing  the  details  of  what  had  occurred 
between  Don  Pablo  and  the  squatters.  He  at 
once  buckled  on  his  sword,  gave  orders  to 
ten  well-armed  men  to  mount,  and  pla- 
cing himself  at  the  head  of  this  numerous 
escort,  he  proceeded  toward  Buffalo  Val- 
ley. 

Don  Miguel  had  witnessed  with  secret 
annoyance  all  these  formidable  preparations. 
He  placed  but  slight  confidence  in  the  cour- 
age of  the  policemen,  and  he  would  have 
preferred  the  sheriff  leaving  him  master  to 
act  as  be  pleased. 


Don  Luciano  Perea  was  a  plump  little 
man  of  about  sixty  years  of  age,  round  as  a 
tub,  with  a  jolly  face,  adorned  with  a  rubi- 
cund nose  and  two  cunning  little  eyes.  Thft 
little  band  set  out  at  a  canter,  and  proceeded 
rapidly  toward  the  forest.  The  sheriff  hurl- 
ed fire  and  flames  at  the  audacious  usurpers, 
as  he  called  them :  he  spoke  of  nothing  less 
than  killing  them  without  mercy,  if  they  at- 
tempted even  the  slightest  resistance  to  the 
orders  he  was  about  to  give  them.  Don 
Miguel,  who  was  much  calmer,  and  foreboded 
no  good  from  this  great  wrath,  sought  in 
vain  to  pacify  him  by  telling  him  that  he 
would  in  all  probability  have  to  do  with 
men  difficult  to  intimidate,  against  whom 
coolness  would  be  the  best  weapon. 

Don  Miguel,  in  order  to  shorten  the  jour- 
ney, led  the  band  by  a  cross-road,  which 
saved  at  least  one-third  the  distance  ;  and 
the  first  trees  of  the  forest  already  appeared 
about  twp  miles  off.  The  mischief  pro- 
duced by  the  squatters  was  much  more  con- 
siderable than  Don  Pablo  had  represented 
to  his  father;  and,  at  the  first  glance,  it 
seemed  impossible  that,  in  so  short  a  time, 
four  men,  even  though  working  vigorously, 
could  have  accomplished  it.  The  finest 
trees  lay  on  the  ground :  enormous  piles  of 
planks  were  arranged  at  regular  distances, 
and  on  the  river  an  already  completed  raft 
only  awaited  a  few  mofe  stems  of  trees  to 
be  thrust  into  the  water. 

Don  Miguel  could  not  refrain  from  sigh- 
ing at  the  sight  of  the  devastation  commit- 
ted in  one  of  his  best  forests ;  but  the  near- 
er they  approached  the  spot  where  they 
expected  to  meet  the  squatters,  the  more 
lukewarm  grew  the  warlike  zeal  of  the 
sheriff  and  his  aids,  and  Don  Miguel  soon 
found  himself  compelled  to  urge  them  on, 
instead  of  restraining  them  as  he  had  hither- 
to done.  Suddenly  the  sound  of  an  ax  re- 
echoed a  few  paces  ahead  of  the  band.  The 
sheriff,  impelled  by  the  feeling  of  his  duty, 
and  shame  of  appearing  frightened,  advanced 
boldly  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  followed 
by  his  escort. 

"Stop!"  a  rough  voice  shouted,  at  the 
moment  the  policemen  turned  the  corner 
of  a  lane. 

Ten  paces  from  them  stood  a  man  in  the 
center  of  the  ride,  leaning  on  an  American 
rifle.  The  sheriff'  turned  to  Don  Miguel 
with  such  an  expression  of  hesitation  and 
honest  terror  that  he  could  not  refrain  from 
laughing. 

"Come,  courage,  Don  Luciano!"  he  said 
to  him.  "  This  man  is  alone  :  he  can  not 
venture  to  bar  our  passage." 

"Forward!"  the  sheriff  exclaimed, 
ashamed  of  this  impression  which  he  could 
not  master,  and  frowning  portentously, 
*'  forward,  you  fellows,  and  fire  on  that 
scoundrel  if  he  make  but  a  sign  to  resist 
you." 

The  men  set  out  again  with  prudential 
hesitation. 


A  VALIANT  SHERIFF. 


"Stop!  I  tell  you  again,"  the  squatter 
repeated.  "  Did  you  not  hear  the  order  I 
gave  you?" 

The  sheriff,  reassured  by  the  presence  of 
the  proprietor,  then  advanced,  and  said 
with  a  tone  which  he  strove  to  render  ter- 
rible, but  which  was  only  ridiculous  through 
the  terror  he  revealed  : 

u  I,  Don  Luciano  Perez,  of  the  town  of 
Paso,  have  come,  by  virtue  of  the  powers 
delegated  to  me  by  the  Government,  to 
summon  you  and  your  adherents  to  quit 
within  twenty-four  hours  this  forest  you 
have  illegally  entered,  and  which— " 

"  Ta,  ta!"  the  stranger  shouted,  rudely 
interrupting  him,  and  stamping  his  foot 
savagely.  "I  care  as  much  for  all  your 
words  and  laws  as  I  do  for  an  old  moccasin. 
The  ground  belongs  to  the  first  comers. 
We  are  comfortable  here,  and  mean  to  re- 
main." 

"  Your  language  is  very  bold,  young  man," 
Don  Miguel  then  said.  "  You  do  not  con- 
sider that  you  are  alone,  and  that,  failing 
other  rights,  we  have  strength  on  our  side. 

The  squatter  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"You  believe  that,"  he  said.  "Learn, 
stranger,  that  I  care  as  little  for  the  ten 
humbugs  I  now  have  before  me  as  I  do  for 
a  woodcock,  and  that  they  will  do  well  to 
leave  me  at  peace,  unless  they  want  to  learn 
the  weight  of  my  arm  at  their  expense. 
However,  here  is  my  father :  settle  it  with 
him." 

And  he  began  carelessly  whistling  "  Yan- 
kee Doodle."  At  the  same  instant  three 
men,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Red  Cedar, 
appeared  on  the  path.  At  the  sight  of 
these  unexpected  reinforcements  for  their 
arrogant  enemy,  the  sheriff  made  a  move- 
ment in  retreat.  The  affair  was  becoming 
complicated,  and  threatened  to  assume  pro- 
portions very  grave  for  them. 

"Hallo  !  what's  up?"  the  old  man  asked, 
roughly.  "Any  thing  wrong,  Sutter?" 

"  Thesepeople,"  the  young  man  answered, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  contemptuously, 
"  are  talking  about  driving  us  from  the 
forest  by  virtue  of  some  order." 

"  Hallo!"  Red  Cedar  said,  his  eyes  flash- 
ing as  he  cast  a  savage  glance  at  the  Mexi- 
cans. "The  only  law  I  recognize  in  the 
desert,"  he  continued,  with  a  gesture  of 
terrible  energy,  as  he  struck  his  rifle- barrel, 
"is  this.  Withdraw,  strangers,  if  you  do 
not  wish  blood  to  be  shed  between  us.  I  am 
a  peaceful  man,  wishing  to  do  no  one  a 
hurt;  but  I  warn  you  that  I  will  not  allow 
myself  to  be  kicked  out  without  striking.a 
blow." 

"  You  will  not  be  turned  out,"  the  sheriff 
remarked,  timidly;  "on  the  contrary,  you 
have  seized  on  what  belongs  to  other 
people." 

"I  won't  listen  to  your  arguments,  which 
I  do  not  understand,"  the  squatter  rough- 
ly exclaimed.  "God  gave  the  ground  to 
man  that  he  might  labor  on  it.  Every 


proprietor  who  does  not  fulfill  tUla  condi- 
tion tacitly  renounces  hia  rights,  and  the 
earth  then  becomes  the  property  of  tku 
man  who  tills  it  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow. 
Be  off  at  full  speed,  if  you  do  not  wish 
harm  to  happen  to  you!" 

"  We  will  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  in- 
timidated b}r  your  threats,"  the  sheriff  said, 
impelled  by  his  onger,  and  forgetting  for  a 
moment  his  alarm;  "we  will  do  our  duty, 
whatever  may  happen." 

"  Try  it,"  Red  Cedar  said,  with  a  grin. 

And  he  made  a  sign  to  his  sons.  The 
latter  arranged  themselves  in  a  single  line, 
and  occupied  the  entire  width  of  the 
path. 

"In  the  name  of  the  law,"  the  sheriff 
said,  with  energy,  as  he  pointed  out  the 
old  man,  "  men  seize  that  person." 

But,  as  so  frequently  happens  under  simi- 
lar circumstances,  this  order  was  more  easy 
to  give  thaa  to  execute.  Red  Cedar  and 
his  sona  did  not  appear  at  all  disposed  to  let 
themselves  be  collared. 

"  For  the  last  time,  will  you  be  off?"  the 
squatter  shouted.  "Let  them  have  it." 

His  three  sons  raised  their  rifles.  At  this 
movement,  which  removed  all  doubts  that 
might  still  remain  on  their  minds,  and 
which  proved  to  them  that  the  squatters 
would  not  hesitate  to  proceed  to  extremi- 
ties, the  sheriff  and  his  aids  were  seized 
with  an  invincible  terror.  They  turned 
bridle  and  galloped  off  at  full  speed,  fol- 
lowed by  the  yells  of  the  squatters. 

One  man  alone  remained  motionless  be- 
fore them — Don  Miguel  Zarate.  Red  Cedar 
had  not  recognized  him,  either  owing  to 
the  distance  that  separated  them,  or  be- 
cause the  proprietor  had  purposely  pulled 
over  his  eyes  his  broad -brimmed  hat.  Don 
Miguel  dismounted,  placed  the  pistols  from 
his  holsters  through  his  belt,  fastened  his 
horse  to  a  tree,  and  coolly  throwing  his 
rifle  across  his  shoulders,  boldly  advanced 
toward  the  squatters.  The  latter,  sur- 
prised by  the  courage  of  this  man,  who 
alone  attempted  what  his  comrades  had  giv- 
en up  all  hopes  of  achieving,  let  him  come 
up  to  them  without  offering  the  slightest 
opposition.  When  a  couple  of  paces  from 
the  old  squatter,  he  stopped,  put  the  butt 
of  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  and  removing 
his  hat,  said : 

"  Do  you  recognize  me,  Red  Cedar  ?" 

"Don  Miguel  Zarate!"  the  bandit  shouted, 
in  surprise. 

"As  the  sheriff  deserts  me,"  the  pro- 
prietor continued,  "  and  fled  like  a  coward 
before  your  threats,  I  am  obliged  to  take 
justice  for  myself,  and  I  will  do  so  !  Red 
Cedar,  I,  as  owner  of  this  forest,  in  which 
youjiave  settled  without  permission,  order 
you  to  depart  at  once." 

The  young  men  exchanged  a  few  mutter- 
ed threats. 

"Silence !"  Re4  Cedar  commanded.  "Let 
the  man  speak." 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"  I  have  finished,  and  await  your  answer." 

The  sqnatter  appeared  to  reflect  deeply 
for  a  few  minutes. 

4 'The answer  you  demand  is  difficult  to 
give,"  he  at  length  said:  "my  position 
toward  you  is  not  a  free  one." 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"  Because  I  owe  you  my  life." 

"  I  dispense  you  from  all  gratitude." 

"  That  is  possible.  You  are  at  liberty  to 
do  so ;  but  I  can  not  forget  the  service  you 
rendered  me." 

"  It  is  of  little  consequence." 

"  Much  more  than  you  fancy.  I  may  be, 
through  my  character,  habits,  and  mode  of 
life  I  lead,  beyond  the  law  of  civilized  be- 
ings ;  but  I  am  not  the  less  a  man,  and  if 
of  the  worst  sort,  perhaps,  I  do  no  more 
forget  a  kindness  than  I  do  an  insult." 

"  Prove  it,  then,  by  going  away  as  quickly 
as  you  can,  and  then  we  shall  be  quits." 

The  squatter  shook  his  head. 

"Listen  to  me,  Don  Miguel,"  he  said. 
"  You  have  in  this  country  the  reputation 
of  being  the  providence  of  the  unfortunate. 
I  know  from  myself  the  extent  of  your 
kindness  and  courage.  It  is  said  that  you 
possess  an  immense  fortune,  of  which  you 
do  not  yourself  know  the  extent." 

"Well,  what  then?"  the  haciendero  im- 
patiently interrupted  him. 

"The  damage  I  can  commit  here,  even  if 
I  cut  down  all  the  trees  in  the  forest,  would 
be  but  a  trifle  to  you:  then  whence  comes 
the  fury  you  display  to  drive  me  out  ?" 

"Your  question  is  just,  and  I  will  answer 
it.  I  demand  your  departure  from  my  es- 
tates because,  only  a  few  days  back,  my  son 
was  grievously  wounded  by  your  lads,  who 
led  him  into  a  cowardly  snare  ;  and  if  he  es- 
caped death,  it  was  only  through  a  miracle. 
That  is  the  reason  why  we  can  not  live  side 
by  side,  for  blood  severs  us." 

Red  Cedar  frowned. 

"  Is  this  true  ?"  he  said,  addressing  his 
sons. 

The  young  men  only  hung  their  heads  in 
reply. 

"  I  am  waiting,"  Don  Miguel  went  on. 

"Come,  the  question  can  not  be  settled 
thus,  so  we  will  proceed  to  my  cabin." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  I  ask  you  for  a  yes 
or  a  no." 

"I  can  not  answer  you  yet.  We  must 
have  a  conversation  together,  after  which 
you  shall  decide  as  to  my  future  conduct. 
Follow  me,  then,  without  fear." 

"  I  fear  nothing,  as  I  believe  I  have  proved 
to  you.  Go  on,  as  you  demand  it ;  I  will  fol- 
low you." 

Red  Cedar  made  his  sons  a  sign  to  remain 
where  they  were,  and  proceeded  with  long 
strides  toward  his  hut,  which  was  but  a 
short  distance  off.  Don  Miguel  wiflked 
carelessly  after  him.  They  entered  the 
cabin.  It  was  deserted.  The  two  females 
were  doubtless  also  occupied  in  the  forest. 
Bed  Cedar  closed  the  doer  after  him,  eat 


down  on  a  bench,  made  his  guest  a  sign  to 
do  the  same,  and  began  speaking  in  a  low 
and  measured  voice,  as  if  afraid  what  he 
had  to  say  might  be  heard  outside. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   ASSASSINATION. 

"  LISTEN  to  me,  Don  Miguel,"  Red  Cedar 
said,  "  and  pray  do  not  mistake  my  meaning. 
I  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  intimi- 
dating you,  nor  do  I  think  of  attempting  to 
gain  your  confidence  by  revelations  which 
you  may  fairly  assume  I  have  accidentally 
acquired." 

The  proprietor  regarded  with  amazement 
the  speaker,  whose  tone  and  manner  had  so 
suddenly  changed. 

"  I  do  uot  understand  you,"  he  said  to  him. 
"  Explain  yourself  more  clearly,  for  the 
words  you  have  just  uttered  are  an  enigma, 
the  key  to  which  I  seek  in  vain." 

"You  shall  be  satisfied;  and  if  you  do 
not  catch  the  meaning  of  my  words  tiiis 
time  it  must  be  because  you  will  not.  Like 
all  intelligent  men,  you  are  wearied  of  the 
incessant  struggles  in  which  the  vital 
strength  of  your  country  is  exhausted  un- 
profitably.  you  have  seen  that  a  land  so 
rich,  so  fertile,  so  gloriously  endowed  as 
Mexico,  could  not — 1  should  say  ought  not 
— to  remain  longer  the  plaything  of  paltry 
ambitions,  and  tlie  arena  on  which  all  these 
transitory  tyrannies  sport  in  turn.  For  near- 
ly thirty  years  you  have  dreamed  of  emanci- 
pation, not  of  your  entire  country,  for  that 
would  be  too  rude  a  task,  and  unrealizable ; 
but  you  said  to  yourself, '  Let  ue  render  New 
Mexico  independent;  form  it  into  a  new 
State,  governed  by  wise  laws  rig'orousiy  exe- 
cuted. By  liberal  institutions  let  us  give  an 
impetus  to  all  the  riches  with  which  it  is 
choked,  give  intellect  all  the  liberty  it  re- 
quires, and  perhaps  within  a  few  years  the 
entire  Mexican  Confederation,  amazed  by 
the  magnificent  results  I  shall  obtain,  will 
follow  my  example.  Then  I  shall  die  happy 
at  what  I  have  effected — my  object  will  be 
carried  out.  I  shall  have  saved  my  country 
from  the  abyss  over  which  it  hangs,  through 
the  double  pressure  of  the  American  Union 
and  the  exhaustion  of  the  Spanish  race.' 
Are  not  those  ideas  yours,  caballero  ?  Do 
you  consider  that  I  have  explained  myself 
clearly  this  time  ?" 

"Perhaps  so,  though  I  do  not  yet  see 
distinctly  the  point  you  wish  to  reach.  The 
thoughts  you  attribute  to  me  are  such 
as  naturally  occur  to  all  men  who  sincerely 
love  their  country,  and  I  will  not  pretend 
that  I  have  not  entertained  them." 

"  You  would  be  wrong  in  doing  so,  for 
they  are  great  and  noble,  and  breathe  the 
purest  patriotism." 

"A  truce  to  compliments,  and  let  us  coma 
to  the  point,  for  time  presses." 


THE  TWO  CONSPIRATORS. 


"Patience:  I  have  not  yet  ended.  These 
ideas  must  occur  to  you  sooner  than  to 
another,  as  you  are  the  descendant  of  the 
first  Aztec  kings,  and  horn  defender  of  the 
Indians  in  this  hapless  country.  You  see 
that  I  am  well  acquainted  with  you,  Don 
Miguel  Zarate." 

<YToo  well,  perhaps,"  the  Mexican  mut- 
tered. 

The  squatter  smiled  and  went  on  : 

"It  is  not  chance  that  led  me  to  this 
country.  I  knew  what  I  was  doing,  and 
why  I  came.  Don  Miguel,  the  hour  is  a  sol- 
emn one.  All  your  preparations  are  made  : 
will  you  hesitate  to  give  New  Mexico  the  sig- 
nal which  must  render  it  independent  of  the 
metroplis  which  has  so  long  been  fattening 
at  its  expense  ?  Answer  inc." 

Don  Miguel  started.  He  fixed  on  the 
squatter  a  burning  glance,  in  which  admir- 
ation at  the  man's  language  could  be  read. 
Red  Cedar  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  What !  do  you  still  doubt  ?"  he  said. 

He  rose,  went  to  a  box  from  which  he 
took  some  papers,  and  threw  them  on  the 
table  before  the  haciendero,  saying  : 

"Read." 

Don  Miguel  hurriedly  seized  the  papers, 
and  ran  his  eye  over  them. 

"Well?"  he  asked,  looking  fixedly  at  the 
strange  speaker. 

"You  see,"  the  squatter  answered,  "that 
I  am  your  accomplice.  General  Ibanez, 
your  agent  in  Mexico,  is  in  correspondence 
with  me,  as  is  Mr.  Wood,  your  agent  at  New 
York." 

"It  is  true,"  the  Mexican  said  coldly, 
"you  have  the  secret  of  the  conspiracy. 
The  only  point  left  is  to  what  extent  that 
goes." 

"  I  possess  it  entirely.  I  have  orders  to 
enlist  the  volunteers  who  will  form  the  nu- 
cleus of  the  insurrectionary  army." 

"Good!" 

"Now,  you  see,  by  these  letters  of  Gene- 
ral Ibanez  and  Mr.  Wood,  that  lam  commis- 
sioned by  them  to  come  to  an  understanding 
with  you,  and  receive  your  final  orders." 

"  I  see  it." 

"  What  do  you  purpose  doing  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"What,  nothing  !"  the  squatter  exclaim- 
ed, bounding  with  surprise.  "  You  are  jest- 
ing I  suppose." 

"Listen  to  me  in  your  turn,  and  pay  at- 
tention to  my  words,  for  they  express  my  ir- 
revocable resolution.  I  know  not,  nor  care 
to  know,  by  what  means,  more  or  less  hon- 
orable, you  have  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
confidence  of  my  partners,  and  becoming 
master  of  our  secrets.  Still  it  is  my  firm 
conviction  that  a  cause  which  employs  such 
men  as  yourself  is  compromised,  hence  I  re- 
nounce every  combination  in  which  you  are 
called  to  play  a  part.  Your  antecedents 
and  the  life  you  lead,  have  placed  you  with- 
out the  pale  of  the  law." 

"I  am  a  bandit— out  with  it !    But  what 


matter  so  long  as  you  succeed  ?  Does  not 
the  end  justify  the  means?" 

"  That  may  be  your  morality,  but  it  will 
never  be  mine.  I  repudiate  all  community 
of  ideas  with  men  of  your  stamp.  I  will 
not  have  you  either  as  accomplice  or  part- 
ner." 

The  squatter  darted  a  look  at  him  laden 
with  hatred  and  disappointment. 

"In  serving  us,"  Don  Miguel  continued, 
"  you  can  only  have  an  interested  object, 
which  I  will  not  take  the  trouble  of  guess- 
ing at.  An  Anglo-American  will  never 
frankly  aid  a  Mexican  to  conquer  his  liberty: 
he  would  lose  too  much  by  doing  it." 

"Then?" 

"  I  renounce  forever  the  projects  I  had 
formed.  I  had,  I  grant,  dreamed  of  restor- 
ing to  my  country  the  independence  of 
which  it  was  unjustly  stripped :  but  it  shall 
remain  a  dream." 

"  That  is  your  last  word  ?" 

"  The  last." 

"You  refuse?" 

"I  do." 

"  Good ;  then  I  know  now  what  is  left 
me  to  do." 

"I  am  curious  to  learn  it." 

"  However  rich  you  may  be,  Don  Miguel 
Zarate,  and  perhaps  because  of  those  very 
riches,  and  in  spite  of  the  kindness  you 
sow  broadcast,  the  number  of  your  enemies 
is  very  considerable." 

"I know  it." 

"  Very  good.  Those  enemies  will  joyfully 
seize  the  first  opportunity  that  presents  it- 
self to  destroy  you." 

"It  is  probable." 

"You  see,  then.  When  I  go  to  the 
Governor  and  tell  him  that  you  are  conspir- 
ing, and,  in  support  of  my  denunciation, 
hand  him  not  only  these  letters,  but  several 
others  written  and  signed  by  you,  lying  in 
that  chest,  do  you  believe  that  the  Governor 
will  treat  me  as  an  impostor,  and  refuse  to 
arrest  you?" 

"  Then  you  have  letters  in  my  hand- 
writing?" 

"  I  have  three,  which  will  be  enough  to 
have  you  shot." 

"  Ah !" 

"Yes.  Hang  it  all!  you  understand  that, 
in  an  affair  so  importa'nt  as  this,  it  is  wise 
to  take  one's  precautions,  for  no  one  knows 
what  may  happen  ;  and  men  of  my  stamp," 
he  added  with  an  ironical  smile,  "  nave  more 
reasons  than  others  for  being  prudent." 

"Come,  that  is  well  played,"  the  other 
said,  carelessly. 

"Is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  and  I  compliment  you  on  it:  you 
are  a  better  player  than  I  gave  you  credit 
for." 

"  Oh !  you  do  not  know  me  yet." 

"  The  little  I  do  know  suffices  me." 

"Then?" 

"We  wDl  remain  as  we  are,  if  you  will 
permit  me." 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"  You  Btill  refuse  ?" 

"  More  than  ever." 

The  squatter  frowned. 

"Take  care,  sir,"  he  muttered,  hoarsely. 
"  I  will  do  what  I  told  you." 

"  Yes,  if  I  allow  you  the  time." 

"Eh?" 

"If  you  are  a  clever  scamp,  I  am  not 
altogether  a  fool.  Do  you  believe,  in  your 
turn,  that  I  will  let  myself  be  intimidated 
by  your  threats,  and  that  I  should  not  find 
means  to  keep  you  from  acting  V" 

"lam  curious  to  know  the  means  you 
will  employ  to  obtain  this  result." 

"  You  shall  see,"  Don  Miguel  replied,  with 
perfect  coolness. 

The  two  men  were  seated  in  front  of  the 
hearth,  each  at  the  end  of  a  bench :  the 
table  was  between  them,  but  a  little  back, 
BO  that  while  talking  they  only  leaned  an 
elbow  on  it.  While  uttering  the  last  word 
Don  Miguel  bounded  like  a  tiger  on  the 
squatter,  who  did  not  at  all  expect  the  at- 
tack, seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  hurled 
him  to  the  ground.  The  two  enemies  rolled 
on  the  uneven  flooring  of  the  cabin. 

The  attack  had  been  so  sudden  and  well- 
directed  that  the  half-strangled  squatter, 
in  spite  of  his  Herculean  strength,  could 
not  free  himself  from  his  enemy's  iron 
clutch,  which  pressed  his  throat  like  a  vice. 
Red  Cedar  could  neither  utter  a  cry  nor 
offer  the  slightest  resistance :  the  Mexican's 
knee  crushed  his  chest,  while  his  fingers 
pressed  into  his  throat. 

So  soon  as  he  had  reduced  the  wretch  to 
utter  impotence,  Don  Miguel  drew  from  his 
boot  a  long  sharp  knife,  and  buried  the  en- 
tire blade  in  his  body.  The  bandit  writhed 
convulsively  for  a  few  seconds ;  a  livid  pallor 
suffused  his  face ;  his  eyes  closed,  and  he 
then  remained  motionless.  Don  Miguel 
left  the  weapon  in  the  wound,  and  slowly 
rose. 

"Ah,  ah!"  he  muttered,  as  he  gazed  at 
him  with  a  sardonic  air,  "  I  fancy  that 
rogue  will  not  denounce  me  now." 

Without  loss  of  time  he  seized  the  letters 
lying  on  the  table,  took  from  the  box  the 
few  documents  he  found  in  it,  hid  them  all 
in  his  bosom,  opened  the  door  of  the  cabin, 
which  he  carefully  closed  after  him,  and 
went  off  with  long  strides. 

The  squatter's  sons  had  not  quitted  their 
post :  but  soon  as  they  perceived  the  Mexi- 
can, they  went  up  to  him. 

"Well,"  Shaw  asked  him,  "have  you 
come  to  an  understanding  with  the  old  man?" 

"Perfectly  so,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"  Then  the  affair  is  settled  ?" 

"Yes,  to  our  mutual  satisfaction." 

"  All  the  better,"  the  young  men  exclaim- 
ed, joyously. 

The  proprietor  unfastened  his  horse  and 
mounted. 

"Good-by,  gentlemen!"  he  said  to  them. 

"  Good-by !"  they  replied,  returning  his 
bow. 


He  put  his  horse  to  a  trot,  but  at  the  first 
turn  in  the  road  he  dug  his  spurs  into  its 
flanks,  and  started  at  full  speed. 

"  Now,"  Sutter  observed,  "  I  believe  that 
we  can  proceed  to  the  cabin  without  incon- 
venience." 

And  they  walked  toward  the  cabin,  pleas- 
antly conversing  together. 

Don  Miguel,  however,  had  not  succeeded 
so  fully  as  he  imagined.  Red  Cedar  was 
not  dead,  for  the  old  bandit  kept  a  firm  hold 
on  life.  Attacked  unawares,  the  squatter 
had  not  attempted  a  resistance,  which  he 
saw  at  the  first  glance  was  useless,  and 
would  only  have  exasperated  his  adversary. 
But  with  marvelous  sagacity,  he  stiffened 
himself  against  the  pain,  and  resolved  on 
"playing  'possum."  The  success  of  his 
stratagem  was  complete. 

So  long  as  his  enemy  remained  in  the  hut 
the  squatter  was  careful  not  to  make  the 
slightest  movement  that  might  have  be- 
trayed him ;  but,  so  soon  as  he  was  alone, 
he  opened  his  eyes,  rose  with  an  effort,  drew 
the  dagger  from  the  wound,  and  looking 
at  the  door  through  which  the  Mexican 
had  departed  with  a  glance  so  full  of  ha- 
tred that  it  is  impossible  to  describe,  he 
muttered  : 

"  Now  we  are  quits,  Don  Miguel  Zarate, 
since  you  have  tried  to  take  back  the  life 
of  him  you  saved.  Pray  God  never  to  bring 
us  face  to  face  again  !" 

He  uttered  a  deep  sigh,  and  rolled  heavily 
on  the  ground  in  a  fainting-fit.  At  this 
moment  his  sous  entered  the  cabin. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  SACHEM  OP  THE  CORAS. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  events  we  have  de- 
scribed in  the  previous  chapter  there  was 
one  of  those  lovely  mornings  which  are  not 
accorded  to  our  cold  climates  to  know. 
The  sun  poured  clown  in  profusion  its  warm 
beams,  which  caused  the  pebbles  and  sand 
to  glisten  in  the  walks  of  the  garden  of  the 
Farm.  In  a  clump  of  flowering  orange  and 
lemon  trees,  whose  sweet  exhalations  per- 
fumed the  air,  and  beneath  a  copse  of  cac- 
tus, nopals,  and  aloes,  a  maiden  was  asleep, 
carelessly  reclining  in  a  hammock,  which 
hung  between  two  orange  trees. 

With  her  head  thrown  back,  her  long 
black  hair  unfastened,  and  falling  in  disor- 
der on  her  neck  and  bosom  ;  with  her  coral 
lips  slightly  parted,  and  displaying  the  daz- 
zling pearl  of  her  teeth,  Clara  (for  it  was  she 
who"  slept  thus  with  an  infantile  slumber) 
was  really  charming.  Her  features  breathed 
happiness,  for  not  a  cloud  had  yet  arisen  to 
perturb  the  azure  horizon  of  her  calm  and 
tranquil  life. 

It  was  nearly  midday;  there  was  not  a 
breath  in  the  air.  The  sunbeams,  pouring 
down  vertically,  rendered  the  heat  so  stifling 


THE  SLEEPING  MAIDEX. 


25 


and  un6Ui5portable,  that  every  oue  in  the 
house  had  yielded  to  sleep,  and  was  enjoying 
what  is  generally  called  in  hot  countries  the 
siesta.  Still,  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
spot  where  Clara  reposed,  calm  and  smiling, 
a  sound  of  footsteps,  at  first  almost  imper- 
ceptible but  gradually  lightening,  was  heard, 
and  a  man  made  his  appearance.  It  was 
Shaw,  the  youngest  of  the  squatter's  sons. 
How  was  he  at  this  spot  ? 

The  young  man  was  panting,  and  the  per- 
spiration poured  down  his  cheeks.  On  reach- 
ing the  entrance  of  the  clump  he  bent  an 
anxious  glance  on  the  hammock. 

"She  is  there,"  he  murmured  with  a  pas- 
sionate accent.  "  She  sleeps." 

Then  he  fell  on  his  knees  upon  the  sand, 
and  began  admiring  the  maiden,  dumb  and 
trembling.  He  remained  thus  a  long  time, 
with  his  glance  fixed  on  the  slumberer  with 
a  strange  expression.  At  length  he  uttered 
a  sigh  and  tearing  himself  with  an  effort 
from  this  delicious  contemplation,  he  rose 
sadly,  muttering  in  a  whisper  : 

"I  must  go — if  she  were  to  awake — oh, 
she  will  never  know  how  much  I  love 
her!" 

He  plucked  an  orange-flower,  and  softly 
laid  it  on  the  maiden  ;  then  he  walked  a  few 
steps  from  her,  but  almost  immediately  re- 
turning, he  seized,  with  a  nervous  hand, 
Clara's  vail,  which  hung  down  from  the 
hammock,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips  several 
times,  saying,  in  a  voice  broken  by  the 
emotion  he  felt : 

"It  has  touched  her  hair."  - 

And  rushing  from  the  thicket,  he  crossed 
the  garden  and  disappeared.  He  had  heard 
footsteps  approaching.  In  fact,  a  few  sec- 
onds after  his  departure,  Don  Miguel,  in  his 
turn,  entered  the  copse. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  said  gayly,  as  he  shook 
the  hammock,  "sleeper,  will  you  not  have 
finished  your  siesta  soon  ?" 

Clara  opened  her  eyes  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  no  longer  asleep,  father,"  she 
said. 

"  Very  good.     That  is  the  answer  I  like." 

And  he  stepped  forward  to  kiss  her  ;  but, 
with  a  sudden  movement,  the  maiden  drew 
herself  back  as  if  she  had  seen  some  fearful 
vision,  and  her  face  was  covered  with  a  livid 
pallor. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  the 
father  exclaimed  with  terror. 

The  girl  showed  him  the  orange-flower. 

"  Well,"  her  father  continued,  "  what  is 
there  so  terrific  in  that  flower  ?  It  must 
have  fallen  from  the  tree  during  your 
sleep." 

Clara  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  No,"  she  said;  "  for  some  days  past  I 
have  always  noticed,  on  waking,  a  similar 
flower  thrown  on  me." 

"You  are  absurd:  chance  alone  is  to 
blame  for  it  all.  Come,  think  no  more  about 
it:  you  are  as  pale  as  death,  child.  Why 
frighten  yourself  thus  about  a  trifle?  Be- 


sides, the  remedy  may  be  easily  found.  As 
you  are  so  afraid  of 'flowers  now,  why  not 
take  your  siesta  in  your  bedroom,  instead  of 
burying  yourself  in  this  thicket  ?" 

"  That  is  true,  lather,"  the  girl  said,  all 
joyous,  and  no  longer  thinking  of  the  fear 
she  had  undergone.  "I  will  follow  your  ad- 
vice." 

"  Cornc,  that  is  settled,  so  say  no  more 
about  it.  Now  give  me  a  kiss."  " 

The  maiden  threw  herself  in  her  father's 
arms,  whom  she  stifled  with  kisses.  Both 
sat  down  on  a  grassy  mound,  and  commenc- 
ed one  of  those  delicious  chit-chats  whoso 
charm  only  those  who  are  parents  can  prop- 
erly appreciate.  Presently  a  peon  came 
up. 

"What  has  brought  you  ?"  Don  Miguel 
asked. 

"  Excellency,"  the  peon  answered,  "  a 
red-skin  warrior  has  just  arrived,  who  de- 
sires speech  with  you." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  excellency ;  it  is  Eagle-wing,  the 
sachem  of  the  Coras." 

"  Eagle- wing !"  the  proprietor  repeated 
with  surprise.  "  What  can  have  brought  him 
to  me  ?  Lead  him  here." 

The  peon  retired,  and  in  a  few  minutes  re- 
turned, preceding  Eagle-wing. 

The  chief  had  donned  the  great  war-dress 
of  the  sachems  of  his  nation.  His  hair, 
plaited  with  the  skin  of  a  rattlesnake,  was 
drawn  up  on  the  top  of  his  head  :  in  the 
center  an  eagle-plume  was  affixed.  A  blouse 
of  striped  calico,  adorned  with  a  profusion 
of  bells,  descended  to  his  thighs,  which 
were  defended  from  the  stings  of  muske- 
toes  by  drawers  of  the  same  stuff.  He  wore 
moccasins  made  of  peccary  skin,  adorned 
with  glass  beads  and  porcupine-quills.  To 
his  heels  were  fastened  several  wolves'  tails, 
the  distinguishing  mark  of  renowned  war- 
riors. Round  his  loins  was  a  belt  of  elk- 
hide,  through  which  were  passed  his  knife, 
his  pipe,  and  his  medicine -bag.  His  neck 
was  adorned  by  a  collar  of  grizzlj"  bear-claws 
and  buffalo-teeth.  Finally,  a  magnificent 
robe  of  a  white  female  buffalo-hide,  painted 
red  inside,  was  fastened  to  his  shoulders, 
and  fell  down  behind  him  like  a  cloak.  In 
his  right  hand  he  held  a  fan  formed  of  a  sin- 
gle eagle's-wing,  and  in  his  left  hand  an 
American  rifle.  There  was  something  im- 
posing and  singularly  martial  in  the  appear- 
ance and  demeanor  of  this  savage  child  of 
the  forest. 

On  entering  the  thicket  he  bowed  grace- 
fully to  Clara,  and  then  stood  motionless 
and  dumb  before  Don  Miguel.  The  Mexi- 
can regarded  him  attentively,  and  saw  an 
expression  of  gloomy  melancholy  spread 
over  the  Indian  chiefs  features. 

"  My  brother  is  welcome,"  he  said  to  him. 
"  To  what  do  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
him  ?" 

The  chief  cast  a  side  glance  at  the  maid- 
en. Don  Miguel  understood  what  he 


»  THS 

desired,  and  made  Clara  a  sign  to  withdraw. 
They  remained  alone. 

"  My  brother  can  speak,"  the  proprietor 
then  said;  "  the  ears  of  a  friend  arc  open." 

"Yes,  my  father  is  ^ood,"  the  chief  re- 
plied, in  his  guttural  voice.  "  He  loves  the 
Indians :  unhappily  all  the  pale-faces  do  not 
resemble  him." 

"  What  does  my  brother  mean?  Has  he 
cause  to  complain  of  any  one?" 

The  Indian  smiled  sadly. 

"Where  is  there  justice  for  the  red- 
ekins?"  he  said.  "The  Indians  are  ani- 
mals :  the  Great  Spirit  has  not  given  them  a 
soul,  as  he  has  done  to  the  pale-faces,  and 
it  is  not  a  crime  to  kill  them." 

"Come,  chief,  pray  do  not  speak  longer 
in  riddles,  but  explain  why  you  have  quitted 
your  tribe  ?" 

"Mookapec  is  alone  :  his  ti'ibe  no  longer 
exists." 

"How?" 

"  The  pale-faces  came  in  the  night,  like 
jaguars  without  courage.  They  burned  the 
village,  and  massacred  all  the  inhabitants, 
even  to  the  women  and  little  children." 

"Oh,  that  is  frightful !"  his  listener  mur- 
mured, in  horror. 

"Ah!"  the  chief  continued,  with  an  ac- 
cent full  of  irony,  "the  scalps  of  the  red- 
skins are  sold  dearly." 

"  And  do  you  know  the  men  who  commit- 
ted this  atrocious  crime  ?" 

"Mookapec  knows  them,  and  will  avenge 
himself." 

"Tell  me  their  chief,  if  yon  know  his 
name." 

"I  know  it.  The  pale-faces  call  him  Red- 
Cedar,  the  Indians  the  Man-eater." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  him,  chief,  you  are  avenged, 
for  he  is  dead." 

"  My  father  is  mistaken." 

"  How  so  ?    Why,  I  killed  him  myself." 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"Red  Cedar  has  a  hard  life,"  he  said: 
"  the  blade  of  the  knife  my  father  used  was 
too  short.  Red  Cedar  is  wounded,  but  in 
a  few  days  he  will  be  about  again,  ready  to 
kill  and  scalp  the  Indians." 

This  news  startled  the  haciendero :  the 
enemy  he  fancied  he  had  got  rid  of  still 
lived,  and  he  wou.d  have  to  begin  a  fresh 
struggle. 

"  My  father  must  take  care,"  the  chief 
continued.  "Red  Cedar  has  sworn  to  be 
avenged." 

"Oh!  I  will  not  leave  him  the  time. 
This  man  is  a  demon,  of  whom  the  earth 
must  be  purged  at  all  hazards,  before  his, 
strength  has  returned,  and  he  begins  his 
assassinations  again." 

"  I  will  aid  my  father  in  his  vengeance." 

"Thanks,  chief.  I  do  not  refuse  your 
offer :  perhaps  I  shall  soon  ne<Jd  the  help  of 
my  friends.  And  now,  what  do  you  pro- 
pose doing  ?" 

"Eagle- wing  will  retire  to  the  desert. 
He  has  friend*  among  the  Comanchea. 


They  arc  red-skins,  and  will  welcome  him 
gladly." 

"  I  will  not  strive  to  combat  your  deter- 
mination, chief,  for  it  is  just;  and  if,  at  a 
later  date,  you  take  terrible  reprisals  on  the 
white  men,  they  will  have  no  cause  of  com- 
plaint, for  they  have  brought  it  on  them- 
selves. When  docs  my  brother  start?" 

"At  simset." 

"Rest  here  to-day:  to-morrow  will  bo 
soon  enough  to  set  out." 

"  Mookapec  must  depart  this  day." 

"  Act  as  you  think  proper.  Have  you  a 
horse?" 

"  No ;  but  at  the  first  drove  I  come  to  I 
will  lasso  one." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  set  out  thus,  but 
will  give  you  a  horse." 

"Thanks;  my  father  is  good.  The  Indian 
chief  will  remember — " 

"  Come,  you  shall  choose  for  yourself." 

"I  have  still  a  few  words  to  say  to  my 
father." 

"  Speak,  chief ;  I  am  listening  to  you." 

"Koutonepi,  the  pale  hunter,  begged 
me  to  give  my  father  an  important  warn- 
ing." 

"What  is  it?" 

"A  great  danger  threatens  my  father. 
Koutonepi  wishes  to  see  him  as  soon  as 
possible,  in  order  himself  to  tell  him  its 
nature." 

"  Good !  My  brother  will  tell  the  hunter 
that  I  shall  be  to-morrow  at  the  '  clearing 
of  the  shattered  oak,'  and  await  him  there 
till  night." 

"I  will  repeat  my  father's  words  to  the 
hunter." 

The  two  men  then  quitted  the  garden, 
ixnd  hurriedly  proceeded  toward  the  stables. 
Don  Miguel  let  the  chief  choose  his  own 
horse,  and  while  the  sachem  was  harness- 
ing his  steed  in  the  Indian  fashion,  he 
withdrew  to  his  bedroom,  and  sent  for  his 
son  to  join  him.  The  young  man  had  per- 
fectly recovered  from  his  wound.  His  fath- 
er told  him  that  he  was  obliged  to  absent 
liimself  for  some  days :  he  intrusted  to  him 
the  management  of  the  estate,  while  re- 
commending him  on  no  consideration  to 
leave  the  farm,  and  to  watch  attentively 
over  his  sister.  The  young  man  promised 
him  all  he  wished,  happy  at  enjoying  per- 
fect liberty  for  a  few  days. 

After  embracing  his  son  and  daughter, 
Don  Miguel  proceeded  to  the  yard,  where, 
in  the  meanwhile,  the  chief  had  been  amu- 
sing himself  by  making  the  magnificent 
horse  he  had  chosen  curvet.  He  admired 
for  several  moments  the  Indian's  skill  and 
grace,  for  he  managed  a  horse  superbly ; 
then  mounted,  and  the  two  men  proceeded 
together  toward  the  Paso  del  Norte,  which 
they  must  cross  in  order  to  enter  the  des- 
ert, and  reach  the  clearing  of  the  shat- 
tered oak. 

The  journey  passed  in  silence,  for  the 
two  men  were  aeoply  reflecting. '  At  the 


THE  THREE  FRIENDS. 


27 


moment  they  entered  the  town  the  sun  was 
setting  on  the  horizon  in  a  bed  of  red  mist, 
which  foreboded  a  storm  for  the  night.  At 
the  entrance  of  the  village  they  separated ; 
and  on  the  morrow,  as  we  have  seen  in  our 
first  chapter,  Don  Miguel  set  out  at  day- 
break, and  galloped  to  the  clearing. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CONVERSATION. 

VULENTINB  GUILLOIS  had  traversed  the 
vast  solitudes  of  Mexico  and  Texas  during 
the  past  five  or  six  years.  We  saw  him  just 
now  accompanied  by  the  Araucano  chief. 
These  two  men  were  the  boldest  hunters 
on  the  frontier.  At  times,  when  they  had 
collected  an  ample  harvest  of  furs,  they 
went  to  sell  them  in  the  villages,  renewed 
their  stock  of  powder  and  ball,  purchased 
a  few  indispensable  articles,  and  then  re- 
turned to  the  desert. 

No  one-  knew  who  they  were,  or  whence 
they  came.  Valentine  and  his  friend  main- 
tained the  most  complete  silence  as  to  the 
events  of  their  life  which  had  preceded 
their  appearance  in  these  parts.  Only  one 
thing  had  betrayed  the  nationality  of  Valen- 
tine, whom  his  comrade  called  Koutonepi, 
a  word  belonging  to  the  language  of  the 
Aucas,  and  signifying  "  The  Valiant."  On 
his  chest  the  hunter  wore  the  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor. 

Chance  had  one  day  made  them  acquaint- 
ed with  Don  Miguel  Zarate  under  strange 
circumstances,  and  since  then  an  uninter- 
rupted friendship  had  been  maintained  be- 
tween them.  Don  Miguel,  during  a  tempes- 
tuous night,  namely,  had  only  owed  his 
life  to  the  accuracy  of  Valentine's  aim,  who 
sent  a  bullet  through  the  head  of  the  Mexi- 
can's horse  at  the  moment  when,  mad  with 
terror,  .and  no  longer  obeying  the  bridle,  it 
was  on  the  point  of  leaping  into  an  abyss 
with  its  master.  Don  Miguel  had  sworn 
eternal  gratitude  to  his  savior. 

Valentine  and  (Jurumilla  had  made  them- 
selves tutors  of  his  children,  who,  for  their 
part,  felt  a  deep  friendship  for  the  hunters. 
Don  Pablo  had  frequently  made  long  hunt- 
ing parties  in  the  desert  with  them ;  and  it 
was  to  them  he  owed  the  certainty  of  his 
aim,  his  skill  in  handling  weapons,  and  his 
knack  in  taming  horses. 

Still,  despite  the  sympathy  and  friendship 
which  so  closely  connected  these  different 
persons,  and  the  confidence  which  formed 
the  basis  of  that  friendship,  Don  Miguel  and 
his  children  had  never  been  able  to  obtain 
from  the  hunters  information  as  to  events 
that  had  passed  prior  to  their  arrival  in  this 
country. 

Wrapped  in  Indian  stoicism,  intrenched 
in  habitual  sullenness,  it  was  their  wont  to 
ansvrer  all  questions  by  a  shake  of  the  head, 
but  nothing;  further. 


The  hunter  and  the  Mexican  were 
by  the  fire,  while  Curumilla,  armed  with  hiA 
scalping-knife,   was  busily  liaying  the  twfr 
jaguars  so  skillfully  killed  by  Don  Miguel, 
and  which  were  two  magnificent  brutes. 

"  Eh,  comrade!"  Don  Miguel  said,  with  a 
laugh  ;  "  I  was  beginning  to  \o*u  patience, 
and  fancy  you  had  forgotten  the  meeting 
you  had  yourself  given  me." 

"  I  never  forget  any  thing,  as  you  know," 
Valentine  answered,  seriously;  "and  if  I 
did  not  arrive  here  sooner,  it  was  because 
the  road  is  long  from  my  hut  to  this  clear- 
ing." 

"Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  reproach 
you,  my  friend  !  Still  I  confess  to  you  that 
the  prospect  of  passing  the  night  alone  in 
this  forest  only  slightly  pleased  me,  and  I 
should  have  been  off  had  you  not  arrived 
before  sunset." 

"You  would  have  done  wrong,  Don  Mig- 
uel :  what  I  have  to  tell  you  is  of  the  ut- 
most importance  to  you.  Who  knows  what 
the  result  might  have  been  had  I  not  been 
able  to  warn  you?" 

"  You  alarm  me,  my  friend." 

"  I  will  explain.  In  the  first  place  let  me 
tell  you  that  you  committed,  a  few  days 
back,  a  grave  imprudence,  whose  conse- 
quences threaten  to  be  most  serious  for 
you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  said  one,  but  ought  to  have  said 
two." 

"  I  am  waiting  till  you  think  proper  to  ex- 
press yourself  more  clearly,"  Don  Miguel 
said,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  impatience,  "  be- 
fore I  answer." 

"  You  have  quarreled  with  the  bandit." 

"Red  Cedar." 

"Yes;  and  when  you  had  him  in  your 
power  you  let  him  escape,  instead  of  killing 
him  out  and  out." 

"  That  is  true,  and  I  was  wrong.  What 
would  you  do  ?  The  villain  has  as  tough  a 
life  as  an  alligator.  But  be  at  ease.  If  ever 
he  fall  into  my  hands  again,  I  swear  that  I 
will  not  miss  him." 

"In  the  mean  while  you  did  do  so — that  is 
the  evil." 

"Why  so?" 

"  You  will  understand  me.  This  man  is 
one  of  those  villains,  the  scum  of  the 
United  States,  too  many  of  whom  have  lived 
on  the  frontier  during  the  last  few  years. 
I  do  not  know  how  he  contrived  to  deceive 
your  New  York  agent,  but  he  gained  his  con- 
fidence so  cleverly  that  the  latter  told  him 
all  the  secrets  he  knew  about  your  enter- 
prise." 

"He  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Very  good.  It  was  then,  I  suppose, 
that  you  stabbed  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  at  the  same  time  I  plucked  out 
his  claws ;  that  is  to  say,  I  seized  the  letters 
,l\c  held,  and*  which  might  compromise 
me." 

"A  mistake.    This  man  is  too  thorough- 


THE  TRAIL-HUXTfiR. 


paced  a  scoundrel .  not  to  foresee  all  the 
chances  of  his  treason.  He  had  a  last  letter, 
the  most  important  of  all;  and  that  you 
did  not  take  from  him." 

"  I  took  three." 

"Yes,  but  there  were  four.  As  the  last, 
however,  in  itself  was  worth  as  much  as  the 
other  three,  he  always  wore  it  about  him  in 
a  leather  bag  hung  round  his  neck  by  a 
Bteel chain:  you  did  not  dream  of  looking 
for  that." 

"  But  what  importance  can  this  letter,  I 
do  not  even  remember  writing,  possess,  that 
you  should  attach  such  weight  to  it  ?" 

"  It  is  merely  the  agreement  drawn  up  be- 
tween yourself.  General  Ibanez,  and  Mr. 
Wood,  and  bearing  your  three  signatures." 

"In  that  case  I  am  lost,"  the  Mexican 
exclaimed  in  terror,  "for  if  this  man  real- 
ly possesses  such  a  document,  he  will  not 
fail  to  employ  it  in  order  to  be  revenged  on 
me." 

"  Nothing  is  lost,  so  long  as  a  man's  heart 
beats  in  his  breast,  Don  Miguel.  The  po- 
sition is  critical  I  allow,  but  I  have  saved 
myself  in  situations  far  more  desperate  than 
the  one  you  are  now  in." 

"What  is  to  be  done?" 

"  Red  Cedar  has  been  about  again  for  two 
days.  His  first  care,  so  soon  as  lie  could 
sit  a  horse,  was  to  go  to  Santa  Fe,  the  capi- 
tal of  New  Mexico,  and  denounce  you  to 
the  Governor.  This  has  nothing  to  surprise 
you  from  such  a  man." 

"  Then  I  can  only  fly  as  speedily  as  I 
may." 

"  Wait.  Every  man  has  in  his  heart  at 
least  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins  as  a  bait 
for  the  demon." 

"  What  are  you  driving  at  ?" 

"You  will  see.  Fortunately  for  us,  Red 
Cedar  has  them  all  seven,  I  believe,  in  the 
tiuest  state  of  development.  Avarice,  be- 
fore all,  has  reached  its  acme  with  him." 

"Well?" 

"This  happened.  Our  man  denounced 
yo\i  to  the  Governor  as  a  conspirator,  etc., 
but  was  careful  not  to  give  up  the  proofs 
he  possessed  in  support  of  the  denunciation 
at  the  outset.  When  General  isturitz,  the 
Governor,  asked  him  for  these  proofs,  he  an- 
swered that  he  was  ready  to  supply  them  in 
exchange  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred  thou- 
saud  piastres  in  gold." 

"  Ah !"  the  haciendero  said  with  a  breath 
of  relief,  "  and  what  did  Isturitz  say  ?" 

"  The  General  is  one  of  your  most  invet- 
eterate  enemies,  I  grant,  and  he  would  give 
a  good  deal  for  the  pleasure  of  having  you 
shot." 

"  That  is  true." 

"Yes,  but  still  the  sum  appeared  to  him, 
as  it  really  is,  exorbitant,  the  more  so  as  he 
would  have  to  pay  it  all  himself,  as  the 
Government  does  not  recognize  transactions 
of  that  nature." 

"  Well,  what  did  Red  Cedar  do  then  ?" 

"He  d)d  not  allow  himself  beaten;  on 


the  contrary,  he  told  the  General  he  would 
give  him  a  week  to  reflect,  and  quietly  left 
the  Cabildo." 

"  Hum  !  and  on  what  day  was  this  visit 
paid?" 

"Yesterday  morning:  so  that  you  have 
six  days  still  left  for  action." 

"Six days — that  is  very  little." 

"  Eh  ?"  the  Frenchman  said,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders  impossible  to  describe. 
"  In  my  country — " 

"  Yes,  but  you  arc  a  Frenchman." 

"  That  is  true :  hence  I  allow  you  twice 
the  time  we  should  require.  Come,  let  us 
put  joking  aside.  You  are  a  man  of  more 
than  common  energy ;  you  really  wish  the 
welfare  of  your  country,  so  do  not  let  your- 
self be  crushed  by  the  first  reverse.  Who 
knows  but  that  it  may  be  all  for  the  best  ?" 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  I  am  alone  !  General 
Ibanez,  who  alone  could  help  me  in  this 
critical  affair,  is  fifty  leagues  off.  What  can 
I  do  ?  Nothing." 

"All.  I  foresaw  your  objection.  Eagle- 
wing,  the  chief  of  the  Coras,  has  gone  from 
me  to  warn  the  General.  You  know  with 
what  speed  Indians  travel :  so  he  will  bring 
us  the  General  in  a  few  hours,  I  feel  con- 
vinced." 

Don  Miguel  regarded  the  hunter  with 
mingled  admiration  and  respect. 

"You  have  done  that,  my  friend?"  he 
said  to  him  as  he  warmly  pressed  his  hand. 

"By  Jove!"  Valentine  said  gayly,  "I 
have  done  something  else  too.  When  the 
time  arrives  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is.  But 
lei  us  not  lose  an  hour.  What  do  you  in- 
tend to  do  for  the  present  ?" 

"Act." 

"  Good :  that  is  the  way  I  like  to  heai 
you  talk." 

"  Yes,  but  I  must  first  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  the  General." 

"That  is  true:  but  it  is  the  least  thing," 
Valentine  answered  as  he  looked  skyward, 
and  consulted  the  position  of  the  stars. 
"  It  is  now  eight  o'clock.  Eagle- wing  and 
the  man  he  brings  must  be  at  midnight  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Canon  del  JSuitre.  We 
have  four  hours  before  us,  and  that  is  more 
than  wo  require,  as  we  have  only  ten  leagues 
to  go." 

"  Let  us  go,  let  us  go !"  Don  Miguel  ex- 
claimed, eagerly. 

"  Wait  a  moment ;  there  is  no  such  hurry. 
Don't  be  alarmed;  we  shall  arrive  in  time." 

He  then  turned  to  Curumilla,  and  said  to 
him  in  Araucano  a  few  words  which  the 
haciendero  did  not  understand.  The  Indian 
rose  without  replying,  and  disappeared  in 
the  density  of  the  forest. 

"  You  know,"  Valentine  continued,  "  that 
I  prefer,  through  habit,  traveling  on  foot; 
still,  as  under" present  circumstances  min- 
utes arc  precious,  and  we  must  not  lose 
them,  I  have  provided  two  horses." 

"  You  think  of  every  thing,  my  friend." 

"Yes,  when  I  have  to  act  for  those  I 


A  MEXICAN  BAR-ROOM. 


lore,"   Valentine   answered,  with   a  retro- 
spective sigh. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  between 
the  two  men,  and  at  the  end  of  scarce  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  there  was  a  noise  in  the 
shrubs,  the  branches  parted,  and  Curumilla 
re-entered  the  clearing,  holding  two  horses 
by  the  bridle.  These  noble  animals,  which 
were  nearly  untamed  mustangs,  bore  a  strik- 
ing resemblance  to  the  steeds  of  the 
Apaches,  on  whose  territory  our  fric'nds  now 
were.  They  were  literally  covered  with 
eagle-plumes,  beads,  and  ribbons,  while 
long  red  and  white  spots  completed  then- 
disguise,  and  rendered  it  almost  impossible 
to  recognize  them. 

"Mount!"  Don  Miguel  exclaimed,  so 
soon  as  he  saw  them.  "  Time  is  slipping 
away. ' ' 

'  One  word  yet,"  Valentine  remarked. 

Speak." 

You  still  have  as    chaplain  a    certain 
monk  of  the  name  of  Fray  Ambrosio?" 

Yes." 

Take  care    of  that    man — he    betrays 
you." 

You  believe  it  ?" 

I  am  sure  of  it." 

Good!    I  will  remember." 
'  All  right.    Now  we  will  be  off,"  Valen- 
tine said,  as  he  buried  his  spurs  in  his  horse's 
flanks. 

And  the  three  horsemen  rushed  into  the 
darkness  with  headlong  speed. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   AGREEMENT. 

THE  day  on  which  our  story  commences, 
the  village  of  the  Paso  del  Norte  presented 
an  extraordinary  appearance.  The  bells 
were  ringing  out  peals,  for  the  three  hun- 
dredth anniversary  of  its  foundation  was  be- 
ing celebrated. 

In  a  house  of  poor  appearance,  built,  like 
all  its  neighbors,  of  earth  bricks,  some 
twenty-five  fellows,  whom  it  was  easy  to 
recognize  as  adventurers  by  the  feathers  in 
their  hats,  their  upturned  mustaches,  and 
especially  by  the  lon<j  bronze-hilted  sword 
they  wore  on  the  thigh,  were  drinking  at 
the  gambling-tables,  while  yelling  like  deaf 
men,  and  threatening  at  every  moment  to 
unsheathe  their  weapons. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  occupied  by  these 
troublesome  guests  two  men,  seated  oppo- 
site each  other  at  a  table,  seemed  plunged 
in  deep  thought,  and  looked  around  them 
absently,  not  thinking  about  drinking  the 
contents  of  their  glasses,  which  had  not 
been  emptied  for  more  than  half  an  hour. 
These  two  men  presented  the  most  striking- 
contrast.  They  were  still  young.  The  first, 
aged  twenty-five  at  the  most,  had  one  of 


spect.  His  pallid  brow,  his  face  of  a  delicate 
hue,  surrounded  by  his  long  black  curls,  his 
straight  and  flexible  nose,  his  mouth  filled 
with  a  double  row  of  teeth  of  dazzling 
whiteness,  and  surmounted  by  a  light  brown 
mustache,  gave  him  a  stamp  of  distinction, 
which  was  the  more  striking  owing  to  the 
strict,  and  perhaps  common,  style  of  his  at- 
tire. 

He  wore  the  costume  of  the  wood-rangers. 
A  Panama  straw  hat  was  thrown  on  the 
table,  within  reach  of  his  hand,  by  the  side 
of  an  American  rifle  and  two  double-bar- 
reled pistols.  A  dirk  hung  on  his  left  side, 
and  the  hilt  of  a  long  knife  peeped  out  of 
his  left  boot. 

His  companion  was  short  and  thick-set : 
but  his  well-knit  limbs  and  his  outstanding 
muscles  indicated  no  ordinary  strength. 
His  face,  the  features  of  which  were  common- 
place enough,  had  a  cunning  look,  which 
suddenly  disappeared  to  make  room  for  a 
certain  nobility,  whenever,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  any  sudden  emotion,  his  eyebrows 
contracted,  and  his  glance,  ordinarily  vailed, 
flashed  forth.  He  wore  nearly  the  same 
garb  as  his  comrade ;  but  his  hat,  stained 
with  rain,  and  the  colors  of  his  zarape,  faded 
by  the  sun,  evidenced  lengthened  wear. 
Like  the  first  one  we  described,  he  was 
well  armed. 

It  was  easy  to  see  at  the  first  glance  that 
these  two  men  did  not  belong  to  the  Mexi- 
can race.  Indeed,  their  conversation  would 
have  removed  any  doubts  on  that  head,  for 
they  spoke  in  the  French  dialect  employed 
in  Canada. 

.  "  Hum!"  the  first  said,  taking  up  his  glass, 
which  he  carelessly  raised  to  his  lips.  "  Af- 
ter due  consideration,  Harry,  I  believe  we 
shall  do  better  by  mounting  our  horses  again, 
and  starting,  instead  of  remaining  in  this 
horrible  den,  amid  these  Pagans,  who  croak 
like  frogs  before  a  storm." 

"  Deiice  take  your  impatience  !"  the  other 
replied,  ill-temperedly.  "  Can't  you  re- 
main a  moment  at  rest?" 

"  You  call  it  a  moment,  Harry.  Why,  we 
have  been  here  an  hour." 

"  By  Jove !  Dick,  you're  a  wonderful  fel- 
low," the  other  continued,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Do  you  think  that  business  can  be  settled 
all  in  a  moment?" 

"After  all,  what  is  our  game?  For 
may  the  old  one  twist  my  neck,  or  a  grizzly 
give  me  a  hug,  if  I  know  the  least  m  the 
world !  For  five  years  we  have  hunted  and 
slept  side  by  side.  We  have  come  from 
Canada  together  to  this  place.  I  have  g  own 
into  a  habit — I  can  not  say  why — of  refer- 
ring to  you  every  thing  that  concerns  our 
mutual  interests.  Still  I  should  not  be  sorry 
to  know,  if  only  for  the  rarity  of  the  fact, 
wli3r  on  earth  we  left  the  prairies,  where  we 
were  so  well  off,  to  come  here,  where  we 
are  so  badly  off." 


those    frank,  honest,  and   energetic   faces        "  Have  you  ever  repented,  up  to  to-day, 
which  call  for  sympathy,  and  attract    re-    the  confidence  you  placed  in  n>«'T1 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"  I  do  not  say  so,  Harry.  Heaven  forbid ! 
Still  I  think—" 

'*  You  think  wrong,"  the  young-  man 
sharply  interrupted.  "Let  me  alone,  and 
before  three  months  you  shall  have  three 
times  your  hat  full  of  "massive  gold,  or  call 
me  a  fool." 

At  this  dazzling  promise  the  eye  of  Dick, 
the  smaller  of  the  hunters,  glistened  like 
two  stars.  He  regarded  his  comrade  with  a 
species  of  admiration. 

"Oh,  oh!"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "it 
is  a  placer,  is  it?" 

"Hang  it!"  the  other  said,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  "were  it  not,  should  I  be 
here?  But  silence,  our  man  has  arrived." 

Presently  a  man  entered.  On  his  appear- 
ance a  sudden  silence  fell  on  the  place, 
the  adventurers  rose  as  if  moved  by  a 
spring,  respectfully  took  off  their  plumed 
hats,  and  ranged  themselves  with  downcast 
eyes  to  let  him  pass.  The  man  remained  for 
an  instant  on  the  threshold,  took  a  profound 
glance  at  the  company,  and  then  walked  to- 
ward the  two  hunters. 

This  man  wore  the  gown  of  a  monk ;  he 
had  the  ascetic  face,  with  the  harsh  features 
and  sharply-marked  lines,  that  forms,  as  it 
were,  the  type  of  the  Spanish  monks  of 
which  Titian  has  so  admirably  caught  the 
expression  on  his  canvas.  He  passed  through 
the  adventurers,  holding  out  right  and  left 
his  wide  sleeves,  whicii  they  reverentially 
kissed.  On  approaching  the  two  hunters 
he  turned  round. 

"  Continue  your  sports,  my  sons,"  he  said 
to  the  company;  "my  presence  need  not 
disturb  your  frolics  for  I  only  wished  to  speak 
for  a  few  moments  with  these  two  gentle- 
men." 

The  adventurers  did  not  let  the  invitation 
be  repeated,  but  took  their  places  again 
tumultuously.  The  monk  smiled,  and  seat- 
ed himself  between  the  two  hunters,  while 
bending  a  searching  glance  on  them.  The 
latter  had  followed  with  a  mocking  eye  all 
the  interludes  of  this  little  scene,  and  with- 
out making  a  movement,  they  let  the  monk 
seat  himself  by  their  side. 

The  monk,  without  any  observation,  rolled 
a  cigarette,  and  then  leaning  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  bending  forward,  said  : 

"  You  are  punctual." 

u  We  have  been  waiting  an  hour,"  Dick 
observed,  in  a  rough  voice. 

"  What  is  an  hour  in  the  presence  of  eter- 
nity?" the  monk  said,  witli  a  smile. 

"  Let  us  not  lose  any  more  time,"  Harry 
continued.  "  What  have  you  to  propose 
to  us?" 

The  monk  looked  around  him  suspiciously, 
and  lowered  his  voice. 

"  I  can,  if  you  like,  make  you  rich  in  a 
few  days." 

"  What  is  the  business !"  Dick  asked. 

"Of  course,"  the  monk  continued,  "this 
fortune  I  offer  you  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  me.  If  I  have  an  ardent  desire  to  obtain 


it,  it  is,  in  the  first  place,  because  it  belongs 
to  nobody,  and  will  permit  me  to  relieve 
the  wretchedness  of  thousands  of  beings 
confided  to  my  charge." 

"Of  course,  seuor  padre,"  Harry  an- 
swered, seriously.  "  Let  us  not  weigh 
longer  on  these  details.  According  to  what 
you  told  me  a  few  days  back,  you  have  dis- 
covered a  rich  placer." 

"  Not  I,"  the  monk  sharply  objected. 

"  No  consequence,  provided  that  it  exists," 
Dick  answered. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  it  is  of  great  consequence 
to  me.  I  do  not  wish  to  take  on  myself  the 
responsibility  of  such  a  discovery.  If,  as  I 
believe,  people  will  go  in  search  of  it,  it 
may  entail  the  death  of  several  persons,  and 
the  church  abhors  bloodshed." 

"  Very  good  ;  you  only  desire  to  profit  by 

'"  Not  for  myself." 

"  For  your  parishioners.  Very  good:  but 
let  us  try  to  come  to  an  understanding,  if 
possible,  for  our  time  is  too  precious  for  us 
to  waste  it  in  empty  talk." 

The  monk  crossed  himself,  and  said : 

"  How  you  have  retained  the  impetuosity 
of  your  French  origin  !  Have  a  little  pa- 
tience, and  I  will  explain  myself." 

•'  That  is  all  we  desire." 

"  But  you  will  promise  me — " 

"  Nothing,"  Dick  interrupted.  "  We  are 
hunters,  and  not  accustomed  to  pledge  our- 
selves so  lightly  before  knowing  positively 
what  is  asked  of  us." 

Harry  supported  his  friend's  words  by  a 
nod.  The  monk  took  two  or  three  heavy 
puffs  at  his  cigarette. 

"  Your  will  be  done,"  he  then  said.  "  You 
are  terrible  men.  This  is  the  affair." 

"Goon." 

"A  poor  scamp  of  a  miner,  lost  I  know 
not  how,  in  the  great  desert,  discovered  at 
a  considerable  distance  off,  between  the  Kio 
Gila  and  the  Colorado,  the  richest  placer 
the  wildest  imagination  can  conceive.  Ac- 
cording to  his  statement,  tlie  gold  is  scat- 
tered over  the  surface,  for  an  extent  of  two 
or  three  miles,  in  nuggets,  each  of  which 
would  make  a  man's  fortune.  This  gambu- 
sino,  dazzled  by  such  treasures,  but  unable 
to  appropriate  them  alone,  displayed  the 
greatest  energy,  and  brayed  the  utmost 
perils,  in  order  to  gain  civilized  regions.  It 
was  only  through  boldness  and  temerity 
that  he  succeeded  in  escaping  the  countless 
enemies  who  spied  and  tracked  him  on  all 
sides ;  but  heaven  at  length  allowed  him  tc 
reach  Paso  safe  and  sound." 

"  Very  good,"  Dick  observed.  "  All  this 
may  possibly  be  true  ;  but  why  did  you  not 
bring  this  gambusino,  instead  of  talking  to 
us  about  the  placer,  of  which  you  know  as 
little  as  we  do  ?  He  would  have  supplied  us 
with  information  which  is  indispensable  for 
us,  in  the  event  of  our  consenting  to  help 
you  in  looking  for  this  treasure." 

"  Alas !"  the  monk  replied,  hypocritically 


A  PL  AVER  OF  GOLD. 


casting  his  eyes  down,  u  the  unhappy  man 
was  not  destined  to  profit  by  this  discovery, 
made  at  the  price  of  so  many  perils.  Scarce 
two  days  after  his  arrival  at  Paso  he  quarrel- 
ed with  another  gambusino,  and  received  a 
stab  which  sent  him  a  few  hours  later  to 
the  tomb." 

44  In  that  case,"  Harry  observed,  "  how 
did  you  learn  all  these  details,  senor  padre  ?" 

44  In  a  very  simple  way,  my  sou.  It  was 
I  who  reconciled  the  poor  wretch  in  his 
last  moments  with  Heaven;  and,"  he  added 
with  an  air  of  compunction  splendidly  as- 
sumed, "  when  he  understood  that  his  end 
was  at  hand,  and  that  nothing  could  save 
him,  he  confided  to  me,  in  gratitude  for  the 
consolations  I  bestowed  on  him,  what  I 
have  just  told  you,  revealed  to  me  the  situ- 
ation of  the  placer,  and  for  greater  certainty 
gave  me  a  clumsy  chart  he  had  drawn  out 
on  the  spot.  You  see  that  we  can  proceed 
almost  with  certainty." 

"  Yes,"  said  Harry,  thoughtfully;  "but 
why,  instead  of  first  applying  to  the  Mexi- 
cans, your  countrymen,  did  you  propose  to 
us  to  help  you  in  your  enterprise  '?" 

u  Because  the  Mexicans  are  men  who  can 
not  be  trusted,  and  before  reaching  the  pla- 
cer we  should  have  to  tight  the  Apaches  and 
Comanches,  on  whose  territory  it  is  sit- 
uated." 

After  these  words  there  was  a  rather 
lengthened  silence  between  the  three  speak- 
ers :  each  was  reflecting  deeply  on  what  he 
had  just  heard.  The  monk  tried  to  read 
with  cunning  eye  the  impression  produced 
on  the  hunters  by  his  confidences ;  but  his 
hopes  were  deceived.  Their  faces  remained 
unmoved.  At  length  Dick  spoke  in  a  rough 
voice,  after  exchanging  a  meaning  look 
with  his  comrade. 

"  All  that  is  very  fine,"  he  said  ;  "  but  it 
is  absurd  to  suppose  that  two  men,  however 
brave  they  may  be,  can  attempt  such  an  en- 
terprise in  unknown  regions  peopled  by  fe- 
rocious tribes.  It  would  require  at  least 
fifty  resolute  and  devoted  men,  otherwise 
nothing  could  be  possible." 

44  You  are  right,  and  hence  I  did  not  cal- 
culate on  you  alone.  You  will  have  de- 
termined men  under  your  orders,  chosen 
carefully  by  myself,  and  I  shall  also  accom- 
pany you." 

44  Unluckily,  if  you  have  counted  on  us, 
you  are  mistaken,  senor  padre,"  Harry  said 
peremptorily.  u  We  are  honest  hunters; 
but  the  trade  of  a  gambusino  does  not  at  all 
suit  us.  Even  if  we  had  a  chance  of  gain- 
ing an  incalculable  fortune,  we  would  not 
consent  to  take  part  in  an  expedition  of 
gold-seekers." 

41  Not  even  if  Red  Cedar  were  at  the  head 
of  the  expedition,  and  consented  to  take 
the  direction?"  the  monk  said  in  a  honeyed 
voice,  and  with  a  side  glance. 

The  hunter  started,  a  feverish  blush  suf- 
fused his  face,  and  it  was  in  a  voice  choked 
by  emotion  that  h«  exclaimed : 


"  Have  you  spoken  with  him  about  it?" 
44  Here  he  is  ;  you  can  ask  him,"  the  monk 
answered. 

In  fact,  a  man  was  entering  the  meson  at 
tliis  moment.  Harry  looked  down  in  con- 
fusion, while  Dick  tapped  the  table  with 
his  dagger  and  whistled.  A  smile  of  unde- 
finable  meaning  wandered  over  the  monk's 
pallid  lips. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

RED   CEDAR. 

RED  CEDAR  was  more  than  six  feet  in 
hight;  his  enormous  head  was  fastened  to 
his  square  shoulders  by  a  short  and  muscu- 
lar neck,  like  a  bull's;  his  bony  members 
were  covered  with  muscles  hard  as  ropes. 
In  short,  his  whole  person  was  a  specimen 
of  brute  strength  at  its  culminating  point. 

A  fox-skin  cap,  pressed  down  on  his  head, 
allowed  escape  to  a  few  tufts  of  coarse  gray- 
ish hair,  and  fell  on  his  little  gray  eyes, 
which  were  close  to  a  nose  that  was  hooked 
like  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey;  his  wide 
mouth  was  filled  with  white,  large  teeth  ; 
his  cheek-bones  were  prominent  and  purpled; 
and  the  lower  part  of  his  face  disappeared 
in  a  thick  black  beard,  mingled  with  gray 
hairs.  He  wore  a  hunting-shirt  of  striped 
calico,  fastened  [round  the  waist  by  a  strap 
of  brown  leather,  through  which  were  pass- 
ed two  pistols,  an  ax,  and  a  long  knife;  a 
pair  of  leggings  of  tawny  leather,  sewed  at 
equal  distances  with  hair,  fell  down  to  his 
knees ;  while  his  legs  were  protected  by  In- 
dian moccasins,  ornamented  with  a  profu- 
sion of  beads  and  bells.  A  game-bag  of 
fawn-skin,  which  seemed  full,  fell  over  his 
right  hip ;  and  he  held  in  his  hand  an  Amer- 
ican rifle,  studded  with  copper-nails. 

No  one  knew  who  Red  Cedar  was,  or 
whence  he  came.  About  two  years  prior  to 
the  period  of  our  story  opening  he  had  sud- 
denly made  his  appearance  in  the  country, 
accompanied  by  a  wife  of  a  certain  age — a 
species  of  Megiera,  of  masculine  form  and 
repellant  aspect;  a  girl  of  seventeen;  and 
three  vigorous  lads,  who  resembled  him  too 
closely  not  to  be  his  own,  and  whose  ages 
varied  from  nineteen  to  twenty-four. 

Red  Cedar  himself  appeared  to  be  fifty- 
five  at  the  most.  The  name  by  wrhich  he 
was  known  had  been  given  him  by  the 
Indians,  of  whom  he  had  declared  himself 
the  implacable  enemy,  and  boasted  that  he 
had  killed  two  hundred.  The  old  woman 
was  called  Betsy;  the  girl,  Ellen;  the 
eldest  son,  Nathan;  the  second,  Sutter;  and 
the  last,  Shaw. 

This  family  had  built  a  shanty  in  the  forest 
at  Buffalo  Valley,  and  lived  alone  in  the  des- 
ert, without  having  entered  into  any  rela- 
tions with  the  inhabitants  of  the  village,  or 
the  trappers  and  wood-rangers,  its  neigh- 
bors. This  mysterious  conduct  had  given 
rise  to  numerous  comments;  but  all  had 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


remained  without  reply  or  solution,  and  after 
two  years  they  remained  as  perfect  strangers 
as  on  the  day  of  their  arrival. 

Still,  mournful  and  sad  stories  were  in 
circulation  on  their  account :  they  inspired 
an  instinctive  hatred  and  involuntary  terror. 
Some  said  in  a  whisper  that  old  Red  Cedar 
and  his  three  sons  were  nothing  less  than 
"  scalp-hunters  :"  that  is  to  say,  in  the  pub- 
lic esteem,  people  placed  beneath  the  pirates 
of  the  prairies,  that  unclean  breed  of  birds 
of  prey  which  everybody  fears  and  despises. 

The  entry  of  Red  Cedar  was  significant : 
the  otherwise  unscrupulous  men  who  tilled 
the  saloon  hurriedly  retired  on  his  approach, 
and  made  room  for  him  with  a  zeal  mingled 
with  disgust.  The  old  partisan  crossed  the 
room  with  head  erect :  a  smile  of  haughty 
disdain  played  round  his  thin  lips  at  the 
sight  of  the  effect  his  presence  produced, 
and  he  went  up  to  the  monk  and  his  two 
companions.  On  reaching  them  he  roughly 
placed  the  butt  of  his  rifle  on  the  ground, 
leaned  his  two  crossed  hands  upon  the  barrel, 
and  after  bending  a  cunning  glance  on  the 
persons  before  him,  said  to  the  monk  in  a 
hoarse  voice : 

"  The  deuce  take  you !  Here  I  am:  what 
do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

Far  from  being  vexed  at  this  brutal  ad- 
dress, the  latter  smiled  on  the  colossus,  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  him,  as  he  graciously 
made  answer : 

"  You  are  welcome,  Red  Cedar:  we  were 
expecting  you.  Sit  down,  and  we  will 
talk  while  drinking  a  glass  of  pulque." 

"  The  deuce  twist  your  neck,  and  may 
your  accursed  pulque  choke  you  !  Do  you 
take  me  for  your  sort?"  the  other  answered 
as  he  fell  into  the  seat  offered  him.  "  Order 
me  some  brandy,  and  that  of  the  strongest. 
I  am  not  a  baby  I  suppose." 

Without  making  the  slightest  observation, 
the  monk  rose,  went  to  speak  with  the  host, 
and  presently  returned  with  a  bottle,  from 
which  he  poured  a  bumper  for  the  old  hunt- 
er. The  latter  emptied  the  glass  at  a  draught, 
put  it  back  on  the  table  with  a  sonorous 
"hum!"  and  turned  to  the  monk  with  a 
grimacing  smile. 

"  Come,  the  devil  is  not  always  so  black 
as  he  looks,"  he  said,  as  he  passed  his  hand 
over  his  mouth  to  wipe  his  mustache.  "  I 
see  that  we  can  come  to  an  understanding." 

"  It  will  depend  on  you,  Red  Cedar.  Here 
are  two  worthy  Canadian  hunters  who  will 
do  nothing  without  your  support." 

The  Hercules  took  a  side  glance  at  the 
young  men. 

"  Eh  !"  lie  said,  "  what  do  you  want  with 
these  children  ?  Did  I  not  promise  you  to 
reach  the  placer  with  my  sons  only  ?" 

"  He !  he  !  you  are  powerfully  built,  both 
you  and  your  lads,  I  allow;  but  I  doubt 
whether  four  men,  were  they  twice  as  strong 
as  you  are,  could  carry  ont  this  affair  suc- 
cessfully. You  will  have  numerous  enemies 
to  combat  on  your  road.",, 


liti 


"All  the  better!  The  more  there  we, 
the  more  we  shall  kill,"  he  answered,  with  a 
sinister  laugh. 

"  Senor  padre,"  Dick  interrupted,  "as  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  I  care  little  about  it." 

But  he  was  suddenly  checked  by  a  mean- 
ing glance  from  his  mate. 

"  What  do  you  care  little  about,  my  pretty 
lad  ?"  the  giant  asked  in  a  mocking  voice. 

"  Nothing,"  tbe  young  man  answered 
dryly.  "  Suppose  I  had  not  spoken." 

"  Good,"  Red  Cedar  remarked;  "  it  shall 
be  as  you  wish.  Here's  your  health." 

And  he  poured  the  rest  of  the  bottle  into 
his  glass. 

"  Come,"  said  Harry,  "  let  us  have  but 
few  words.  Explain  yourself  once  for  all, 
without  beating  about  the  bush,  senor 
padre." 

"Yes,"  Red  Cedar  observed,  "men  ought 
not  to  waste  their  time  thus  in  chatter- 
ing." 

"  Very  good.  This,  then,  is  what  I  pro- 
pose. Red  Cedar  Avill  collect  within  three 
daj's  from  this  time  thirty  resolute  men,  of 
whom  he  will  take  the  command,  and  we 
will  start  immediately  in  search  of  the 
placer.  Does  it  suit  you  in  that  way  ?" 

Hum  !"  Red  Cedar  said.      "  In  order  to 
in  search  of  the  placer  we  must  know  a 
"ittle  in  what  direction  it  is,  or  deuce  take 
me  if  I  undertake  the  business !" 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Red 
Cedar ;  I  will  accompany  you.  Have  I  not 
a  plan  of  the  country  V" 

The  colossus  shot  at  the  monk  a  glance 
which  sparkled  under  his  dark  eyelash,  but 
he  hastened  to  moderate  its  brilliancy  by 
letting  his  eyes  fall. 

"  That  is  true,"  he  said  with  feigned  in- 
difference ;  "I  forgot  that  you  were  coming 
with  us.  Then  you  will  leave  your  parish- 
ioners during  your  absence  ?" 

"  Heaven  will  watch  over  them." 

"  Eh  !  it  will  have  its  work  cut  out.  How- 
ever, that  does  not  concern  me  at  all.  But 
why  did  you  want  me  to  come  to  this  place  ?" 

"  In  order  to  introduce  you  to  these  two 
hunters,  who  will  accompany  us." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  Dick  observed, 
"  but  I  do  not  exactly  see  of  what  use  I  can 
be  to  you  in  all  this  :  my  aid,  and  that  of 
my  mate,  do  not  appear  to  me  to  be  indis- 
pensable." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  the  monk  answered, 
quickly,  "  I  reckon  entirely  on  you." 

The  giant  had  risen. 

"What!"  he  said,  as  he  roughly  laid  his 
enormous  hand  on  Dick's  shoulder,  "you 
do  not  understand  that  this  honorable  per- 
sonage, who  did  not  hesitate  to  kill  a  man 
in  order  to  rob  him  of  the  secret  of  the 
placer,  has  a  terrible  fear  of  finding  himself 
alone  with  me  on  the  prairie  ?  He  fears 
that  I  shall  kill  him  in  my  turn  to  rob  him 
of  the  secret  of  which -he  became  master  bv 
a  crime.  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

And  he  turned  his  back  unceremoniously. 


AN  AD  VANTA  GEO  US  PROPOSAL. 


"How  can  you  suppose  such  things,  Red 
Cedar?"  the  monk  exclaimed. 

"  Do  you  fancy  that  I  did  not  read  you  ?" 
the  latter  answered.  "  But  it  is  all  the  same 
to  you.  Do  as  you  please :  I  leave  you  at 
liberty  to  act  as  you  like." 

"  What !  you  are  off  already  ?" 

"  Hang  it !  what  have  I  to  do  any  longer 
here  ?  All  is  settled  between  us.  In  three 
days  thirty  of  the  best  frontiermen  will  be 
assembled  by  my  care  at  Grizzly  Bear  Creek, 
where  we  shall  expect  you." 

After  shrugging;  his  shoulders  once  again 
he  went  off  without  any  salute,  or  even 
turning  his  head. 

"It  must  be  confessed,"  Dick  observed, 
"  that  the  man  has  a  most  villainous  face. 
What  a  hideous  fellow !" 

"Oh!"  the  monk  answered,  with  a  sigh, 
"  the  exterior  is  nothing.  You  should  know 
the  inner  man." 

"  Why,  in  that  case,  do  you  have  any  deal- 
ings with  him?" 

The  monk  blushed  slightly. 

"  Because  it  must  be  so,"  he  muttered. 

"All  right  for  you,"  Dick  continued; 
"but as  nothing  obliges  my  friend  and  my- 
self to  have  any  more  intimate  relations 
with  that  man,  you  must  not  mind,  senor 
padre,  if—" 

"Silence,  Dick!"  Harry  shouted,  angrily. 
"  You  do  not  know  what  you  arc  talking 
about.  We  will  accompany  you,  senor  pa- 
dre. You  can  reckon  on  us  to  defend  you 
if  necessary,  for  I  suppose  Red  Cedar  is 
right." 

"In  what  way?" 

"You  do  not  wish  to  trust  your  life  de- 
fenselessly  in  his  hands,  and  you  reck- 
oned on  us  to  protect  you.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Why  should  I  feign  any  longer?  Yes, 
that  man  terrifies  me,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
trust  myself  to  his  mercy." 

"Do  not  be  alarmed ;  we  shall  be  there, 
and  on  our  word  as  hunters,  not  a  hair  of 
your  head  shall  fall." 

A  lively  satisfaction  appeared  on  the 
monk's  pale  face  on  hearing  this  generous 
promise. 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  warmly. 

Harry's  conduct  appeared  so  extraordi- 
nary to  Dick,  who  knew  the  lofty  sentiments 
and  innate  honor  of  his  comrade,  that, 
without  striving  to  fathom  the  motives 
which  made  him  act  thus,  he  contented 
himself  by  backing  up  his  words  with  an 
affirmative  nod  of  the  head. 

"  Be  assured,  gentlemen,  that  when  we 
reach  the  placer,  I  will  give  you  a  large 
share,  and  you  will  have  no  cause  to  regret 
accompanying  me." 


sufficient  to  make  us  undertake  this  jour- 
ney." 

"  Whatever  the  reason  that  makes  you  ac- 
cept my  proposals,  I  am  not  the  less  obliged 
to  you." 

"  Now  you  will  permit  us  to  take  leave  of 
you,  and  we  shall  hold  ourselves  at  your  or- 
ders." 

"Go,  gentlemen;  I  will  not  keep  you 
longer.  I  know  where  to  find  you  when  I 
want  you." 

The  young  men  took  up  their  hats,  slung 
their  rifles  on  their  shoulders,  and  left  the 
saloon.  The  monk  looked  after  them. 

"Oh!"  he  muttered,  "I  believe  I  can 
trust  to  those  men :  they  have  still  in  their 
veins  a  few  drops  of  that  honest  blood  which 
despises  treachery.  No  matter,"  he  added, 
as  if  on  reflection;  "I  will  take  my  precau- 
tions." 

The  monk  rose  and  looked  around  him. 
The  room  was  full  of  adventurers,  who 
drank  or  played  at  monte,  and  whose  ener- 
getic faces  stood  out  in  the  semi-obscurity 
of  the  room,  which  was  scarce  lighted  by  a 
smoky  lamp.  After  a  moment's  reflection 
the  monk  boldly  struck  the  table  with  his 
clenched  fist,  and  shouted  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"Friends,  I  invite  you  to  listen  to  me.  I 
have,  I  fancy,  an  advantageous  proposal  to 
make  to  you." 

The  company  turned  their  heads ;  all  ap- 
proached the  monk,  round  whom  they 
grouped  themselves  curiously. 

"Friends,"  he  continued,  "  if  lam  not  mis- 
taken, all  present  are  gentlemen  whom  for- 
tune has  more  or  less  ill-treated." 

The  adventurers,  by  an  automatic  move- 
ment of  extraordinary  regularity,  bowed 
their  heads  in  affirmation. 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  he  continued,  with  an 
imperceptible  smile,  "  I  will  undertake  to 
repair  the  wrongs  she  has  done  you." 

The  ad  venturers  pricked  up  their  ears. 

"Speak,  speak!"  they  shouted,  with  de- 
light. 

"What  is  the  affair?"  a  man  with  a  hang- 
dog face  said,  who  stood  in  the  front  ranks. 

"A  war-party  which  I  intend  to  lead 
shortly  into  Apacheria,"  the  monk  said, 
"  and  for  which  purpose  I  need  you." 

At  this  proposition  the  first  ardor  of  the 
adventurers  visibly  cooled  down.  The 
Apaches  and  Comanches  inspire  an  invinci- 
ble terror  in  the  inhabitants  of  the  Mexican 
frontiers.  The  monk  guessed  the  effect  he 
had  produced;  but  he  continued,  as  if  not 
observing  any  thing : 

"  I  take  you  all  into  my  service  for  a 
month,  at  the  rate  of  four  piasters  a  day." 

At  this  magnificent  offer  the  eyes  of  the 


"  The  money  question  has  but  slight  in-    adventurers  sparkled  with  greed,  fear  gave 

rF*S"fr.     With     TIG   "       T-TaT^TT     nncxvoi'firl  "  \Tir        -nrriTT   f<-\    nt-ot^I/^^      /-,>-»  ^1    4-1-.^.-*   ^11    ,.-.,,."],,:*- 


terest  with  us,"  Harry  answered.  "My 
friend  and  I  are  free  hunters,  caring  very 
little  for  riches,  which  would  be  to  us  rathe'r 
j*.  source  of  embarrassment  than  of  pleasure 
,)d  enjoyment.  Curiosity  alone,  and  the 
desire  of  exploring  strange  countries,  are 


way  to  avarice,  and  they  all  exclaimed : 
"We  accept,  reverend  father !" 
"  But,"  the  man  continued  who  had  al- 
ready   spoken,    "we  shall  be  happy,  senor 
padre,  if,  before  starting,  you  would  give  us 
your  holy  benediction,  and  absolve  us  from 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


the  few  venial  sins  we  may  have  commit- 
ted." 

"Yes,"  the  company  yelled,  "  we  shall  be 
happy  if  you  consent  to  that,  reverend 
father."  ' 

The  monk  appeared  to  reflect:  the  adven- 
turers anxiously  waited. 

"  Well,  be  it  so,"  he  answered,  after  a  mo- 
ment. "  As  the  work  in  which  I  am  about 
to  employ  you  is  so  meritorious,  I  will  give 
you  my  blessing,  and  grant  you  absolution 
of  your  sins." 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  chorus  of 
shouts  and  exclamations  of  joy  in  the  room. 
The  monk  demanded  silence,  and  wlien  it 
was  restored  he  said : 

"Now,  give  me  each  your  name,  that  I 
may  find  you  when  I  need  you." 

He  sat  down,  and  began  enrolling  the  ad- 
venturers, who,  with  the  men  Red  Cedar 
supplied,  would  form  the  band  with  which 
he  hoped  to  reach  the  placer. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  TWO  HUNTERS. 

HARRY  and  Dick,  whom  we  saw  seated  at 
a  table,  in  the  saloon  with  Red  Cedar  and 
Fray  Ambrosio,  were,  however,  very  far 
from  resembling  those  two  men  morally. 
They  were  free  and  bold  hunters,  who  had 
spent  the  greater  part  of  their  life  in  the 
desert,  and  who,  in  the  vast  solitudes  of  the 
prairie,  had  accustomed  themselves  to  a 
life  free  and  exempt  from  those  vices  which 
accompany  a  town  residence. 

For  them  gold  was  only  the  means  to  pro- 
cure the  necessary  objects  for  their  trade 
as  hunters  and  tiappers;  and  they  never 
imagined  that  the  possession  of  a  large 
quantity  of  that  yellow  metal  they  despised 
would  place  them  in  a  position  to  enjoy 
other  pleasures  than  those  they  found  in 
their  long  hunts  of  wild  beasts— hunts  so 
full  of  strange  incidents  and  striking  joys. 

Thus  Dick  had  been  to  the  highest  degree 
surprised  when  he  saw  his  friend  eagerly  ac- 
cept the  monk's  offer,  and  agree  to  go  in 
search  of  the  placer ;  but  what  even  more 
surprised  him  was  Harry's  insisting  that  Red 
Cedar  must  take  the  lead  of  the  expedition. 

Dick  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  his 
friend's  upright  character  and  nobility  of 
heart.  Hence  his  conduct  under  the  present 
circumstances  seemed  to  him  perfectly  in- 
comprehensible, and  he  resolved  to  have  an 
explanation  with  him. 

They  had  scarce  quitted  the  saloon  ere 
Dick  bent  down  to  his  companion,  and  said, 
while  looking  at  him  curiously : 

"  We  have  been  hunting  together  for  five 
years,  Harry,  and  up  to  the  present  I  have 
ever  let  myself  be  guided  by  you,  leaving 
you  free  to  act  as  you  pleased  for  our  mu- 
tual welfare.  Still,  this  evening  your  con- 
duct has  appeared  to  me  so  extraordinary 


that  I  am  obliged,  in  the  name  of  our  friend- 
ship, which  has  never  suffered  a  break  up  to 
this  day,  to  ask  you  for  an  explanation  of 
what  has  occurred  in  my  presence." 

"  For  what  good,  my  boy?  Do  you  not 
know  me  well  enough  to  be  certain  that  I 
would  not  consent  to  do  any  dishonorable 
deed?" 

"  Up  to  this  evening  I  would  have  sworn 
it,  Harry :  yes,  on  my  honor  I  would  have 
sworn  it — 

"  And  now?"  the  young  man  asked,  stop- 
ping and  looking  his  friend  in  the  face. 

"  Now,"  Dick  answered,  with  a  certain 
degree  of  hesitation,  "  hang  it  all!  I  will 
be  frank  with  you,  Harry,  as  an  honest  hunt- 
er should  ever  be.  Now  I  do  not  know  if  I 
should  do  so:  no,  indeed  I  should  not." 

"  What  you  say  there  causes  me  great 
pain,  Dick.  You  oblige  me,  in  order  to  dis- 
sipate your  unjust  suspicions,  to  confide  to 
you  a  secret  which  is  not  my. own,  and 
which  I  would  not  have  revealed  for  any 
thing  in  the  world." 

"  Pardon  me,  Harry,  but  in  my  place  I  am 
convinced  you  would  act  as  I  am  doing.  We 
are  very  far  from  our  country,  which  we 
shall  never  see  again,  perhaps.  We  are  re- 
sponsible for  each  other,  and  our  actions 
must  be  free  from  all  double  interpretation." 

"  I  will  do  what  you  ask,  Dick,  whatever 
it  may  cost  me.  I  recognize  the  justice  of 
your  observations.  I  understand  how  much 
my  conduct  this  night  must  have  hurt  you 
and  appeared  ambiguous.  I  do  not  wish  our 
friendship  to  receive  the  least  wound,  or  the 
slightest  cloud  to  arise  between  us.  You 
shall  be  satisfied." 

"  I  thank  you,  Harry.  What  you  tell  me 
relieves  my  bosom  of  a  heavy  load.  I  con- 
fess that  I  should  have  been  in  despair  to 
think  badly  of  you  ;  but  the  words  of  that 
intriguing  monk,  and  the  manners  of  his 
worthy  acolyte,  Red  Cedar,  put  me  in  a 
passion.  Had  you  not  warned  me  so  quick- 
ly to  silence,  I  believe — Heaven  pardon  me 
— that  I  should  have  ended  by  telling  them  a 
piece  of  my  mind." 

"  You  displayed  considerable  prudence  in 
keeping  silence,  and  be  assured  that  I  feel 
sincerely  obliged  to  you  for  it.  You  shall 
soon  understand  all,  and  I  feel  confident  you 
will  completely  approve  me." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  Harry ;  and  now  I  feel 
certain  I  deceived  myself.  I  feel  all  jolly 
again." 

While  speaking  thus  the  two  hunters,  who 
were  walking  with  that  rapid  step  peculiar 
to  men  habituated  to  traverse  great  distances 
on  foot,  had  crossed  the  village,  and  found 
themselves  already  far  in  the  plain.  The 
night  was  magnificent — the  sky  of  a  deep 
blue.  An  infinite  number  of  glistening  stars 
seemed  floating  in  ether.  The  moon  spread 
its  silvery  rays  profusely  over  the  landscape. 
The  sharp  odor  of  the  flowers  perfumed  the 
atmosphere.  The  two  hunters  still  walked 
on. 


A  LOVE-MEETING. 


S5 


"  Where  are  we  going  now,  Harry?"  Dick 
asked.  "I  fancy  we  should  do  better  by 
taking  a  few  hours'  rest,  instead  of  fatiguing 
ourselves  without  any  definite  object. 

44  I  never  do  any  thing  without  a  reason, 
friend,  as  you  know,"  Harry  answered ;  "  so 
let  me  guide  you  and  we  shall  soon  arrive." 

"  Do  as  you  think  proper,  my  boy;  I  shall 
eay  nothing." 

44  In  the  first  place  you  must  know  that 
the  French  hunter,  Koutouepi,  has  begged 
me,  for  reasons  he  did  not  tell  me,  to  watch 
Fray  Ambrosio.  That  is  one  of  the  motives 
which  made  me  be  present  at  this  night's  in- 
terview, although  I  care  as  little  for  a  placer 
as  for  a  musk-rat's  skin." 

u  Koutonepi  is  the  first  hunter  on  the 
frontier ;  he  has  often  done  us  a  service  in 
the  desert.  You  acted  rightly,  Harry,  in  do- 
ing what  he  asked." 

44  As  for  the  secgnd  reason  that  dictated 
my  conduct,  Dick,  you  shall  soon  know  it." 

Half  talking,  half  dreaming,  the  young 
men  reached  Buffalo  Valley,  and  soon  enter- 
ed the  forest  which  served  as  a  lair  for  the 
squatter  and  his  family. 

44  Where  the  deuce  are  we  going  ?"  Dick 
could  not  refrain  from  saying. 

"  Silence  !"  said  the  other:  44  we  are  ap- 
proaching." 

The  darkness  was  profound  in  the  forest : 
the  density  of  the  leafy  dome  under  which 
they  walked  completely  intercepted  the  light 
of  the  moonbeams.  Still  the  Canadians, 
long  accustomed  to  a  night  march,  advanced 
as  easily  through  the  chaos  of  creepers  and 
trees  tangled  in  each  other  as  if  they  had 
been  in  open  day.  On  reaching  a  certain 
spot  where  the  trees,  growing  less  closely 
together,  formed  a  species  of  clearing,  and 
allowed  an  uncertain  and  tremulous  light  to 
pass,  Harry  stopped,  and  made  his  comrade 
a  sign  to  do  the  same. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  he  said.  "  Still,  as 
the  person  I  have  come  to  see  expects  me  to 
be  alone,  and  your  unexpected  presence 
might  cause  alarm,  hide  yourself  behind 
that  larch  tree :  above  all  be  careful  not  to 
stir  till  I  call  you." 

"  Oh,  oh!"  the  hunter  said  with  a  laugh, 
44  have  you  led  me  to  a  love-meeting  ?" 

44  You  shall  judge,"  Harry  replied  laconi- 
cally. ' 4  Hide  yourself. ' ' 

Dick,  greatly  troubled,  did  not  need  the 
invitation  to  be  repeated :  he  concealed  him- 
self behind  the  tree  his  friend  had  indicated, 
and  which  would  have  sheltered  a  dozen  men 
behind  its  enormous  stem.  So  soon  as 
Harry  was  alone  he  raised  his  fingers  to  his 
lips,  and  at  three  different  intervals  imitated 
the  cry  of  an  owl  with  such  perfection  that 
Dick  himself  was  deceived,  and  mechanical- 
ly looked  up  to  seek  the  bird  in  the  tall 
branches  of  the  tree  by  which  he  stood.  Al- 
most immediately  a  slight  noise  was  audible 
in  the  shrubs,  and  a  graceful  and  white  form 
appeared  in  the  glade.  It  was  Ellen,  who 
walked  rapidly  toward  the  young  man. 


4(  Oh,  it  is  you,  Harry !"  she  Baid  with 
joy.  44  Heaven  be  blessed  !  I  was  afraid  you 
would  not  come,  as  it  is  late." 

44  It  is  true,  Ellen  ;  pardon  me.  I  made 
all  possible  speed,  however ;  and  it  is  not 
my  fault  that  I  did  not  arrive  sooner." 

44  How  good  you  are,  Harry,  to  take  so 
much  trouble  for  my  sake  !  How  can  I  ever 
recognize  the  continual  services  you  do 
me  f' 

44  Oh !  do  not  speak  about  them.  It  is  a 
happiness  for  me  to  do  any  thing  agreeable 
to  you." 

44  Alas  !"  the  maiden  murmured,  44  Heaven 
is  my  witness  that  I  feel  a  deep  friendship 
for  you,  Harry." 

The  young  man  sighed  gently. 

44 1  have  done  what  you  asked  of  me,"  he 
said,  suddenly. 

44  Then  it  is  true  my  father  is  thinking 
about  leaving  this  country  to  go  further 

"  Yes,  Ellen,  and  into  frightful  countries, 
among  the  ferocious  Indians." 

The  girl  gave  a  start  of  terror. 

44  Do  you  know  the  reason  of  his  going  ?" 
she  continued. 

44  Yes;  he  is  about  to  look  for  a  gold- 
placer." 

44  Alas  !  who  will  protect  me,  who  will  de- 
fend me  in  future,  if  we  go  away  ?" 

44 1,  Ellen !"  the  hunter  exclaimed  impet- 
uously. 44  Have  I  not  sworn  to  follow  you 
everywhere  ?" 

44  It  is  true,"  she  said,  sadly;  "  but  why 
should  you  risk  your  life  on  the  distant  jour- 
ney we  are  about  to  undertake  ?  No,  Harry, 
remain  here ;  I  can  not  consent  to  your  de- 
parture. From  what  I  have  heard  say,  the 
band  my  father  commands  will  be  numerous 
— it  will  have  scarce  any  thing  to  fear  from 
the  Indians ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  you, 
compelled  to  hide  yourself,  will  be  exposed 
alone  to  terrible  danger.  No,  Harry,  I  will 
not  perm  it  it." 

44  Undeceive  yourself,  Ellen.  I  shall  not 
be  alone,  for  I  am  a  member  of  your  father's 
band." 

44 Is  it  possible,  Harry?"  she  exclaimed 
with  an  expression  of  joy. 

44 1  enrolled  myself  this  very  evening." 

44  Oh !"  she  said,  4<  then  in  that  case  we 
can  often  meet?" 

44  Whenever  you  please,  Ellen,  as  I  shall  be 
there." 

44  Oh !  now  I  am  anxious  to  be  away  from 
here,  and  wish  we  had  already  started." 

44  It  will  not  be  long  first,  set  your  mind 
at  rest.  I  am  convinced  that  we  shall  start 
within  the  week." 

44  Thanks  for  the  good  news  you  bring  me, 
Harry." 

44  Are  your  father  and  mother  still  unkind 
to  you,  Ellen  ?" 

44  It  is  nearly  always  the  same  thing;  and 
yet  their  conduct  toward  me  is  strange.  It 
often  seems  to  me  incomprehensible,  as  it 
is  so  marked  with  peculiarities.  There  are 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


moments  in  which  they  seem  to  love  me 
dearly.     My  father  especially  caresses  and 
embraces  me,  and  then  all  at  once,  I  know 
not  why,  repulses  me  rudely  and  looks  at  me 
in  a  way  that  causes  me  to  shudder." 
kThat  is  indeed  strange,  Ellen." 
*  Is  it  not  ?    There  is  one  thing  above  all 
I  cau  not  explain." 

4  Tell  it  me,  Ellen :  perhaps  I  can  do  so." 
'  You  know  that  all  my  family  are  Pro- 
testants?" 
•Yes." 

'  Well,  I  am  a  Catholic." 
'That  is  certainly  curious." 
'I  wear  round  my  neck  a  small  golden 
crucifix.    Every  time  accident  makes  this 
trinket  glisten  before  my  father  and  mother 
they  grow  furious,  threaten  to  beat  me,  and 
order  me  to  hide  it  at  once.     Do  you  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  this,  Harry  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,  Ellen ;  but,  take  my  advice, 
leave  every  thing  to  time :  perhaps  it  will 
enable  us  to  find  a  clue  to  the  mystery  which 
we  seek  in  vain  at  this  moment." 

"  Well,  your  presence  has  rendered  me 
happy  for  a  long  time,  Harry,  so  now  I  will 
retire." 

"Already?" 

"I  must,  my  friend.  Believe  me  that  I 
am  as  sad  as  yourself  at  this  separation ;  but 
my  father  has  not  yet  returned,  and  may 
arrive  at  any  moment.  If  he  noticed  that  I 
was  not  asleep,  who  knows  what  might  hap- 
pen ?" 

While  saying  the  last  words  the  girl  held 
out  her  delicate  hand  to  the  hunter,  who 
raised  it  to  his  lips  passionately.  Ellen 
withdrew  it  suddenly,  and  bounding  like  a 
startled  fawn,  darted  into  the  forest,  where 
she  so»n  disappeared,  giving  the  young  man 
a  parting  word,  which  caused  him  to  quiver 
with  joy : 

"  We  shall  meet  soon." 

Harry  stood  for  a  long  time  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  spot  where  the  vision  had  dis- 
appeared. At  length  he  uttered  a  sigh, 
threw  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  and  turn- 
ed as  if  to  depart.  Dick  was  before  him. 
Harry  gave  a  start  of  surprise,  for  he  had 
forgotten  his  friend's  presence  ;  but  the  lat- 
t«r  smiled  good-humoredly. 

"  I  now  comprehend  your  conduct,  Har- 
ry," he  said  to  him ;  "  you  were  right  to  act 
as  you  did.  Pardon  my  unjust  suspicions 
and  count  on  ine  everywhere  and  alwa}7s." 

Harry  silently  pressed  the  hand  his  friend 
offered  him,  and  they  walked  back  rapidly 
in  the  direction  of  the  village.  As  they 
emerged  from  the  forest  they  passed  a  man 
who  did  not  see  them.  It  was  Red  Cedar. 
So  soon  as  he  had  gone  a  short  distance 
Harry  stopped  his  companion,  and  pointing 
to  the  squatter,  whose  long  black  shadow 
glided  through  the  trees,  said,  as  he  laid  his 
hand  on  his  shoulder : 

"That  man  hides  in  his  heart  a  horrible 
secret,  which  I  am  ignorant  of,  but  have 
Rworn  to  discover." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FRAY  AMBEOSIO. 

THE  monk  remained  for  a  long  time  in 
the  room,  taking  down  the  names  of  the 
adventurers  he  wished  to  enroll  in  his  band. 
It  was  late  when  he  left ;  but  he  was  satis- 
fled  with  his  night's  work,  and  internally  re- 
joiced at  the  rich  collection  of  bandits  of 
the  purest  water  he  had  recruited. 

The  monks  form  a  privileged  caste  in  Mexi- 
co :  they  can  go  at  all  hours  of  the  night 
wherever  they  please  without  fearing  the 
numerous  "gentlemen  of  the  road,"  scat- 
tered about  all  the  highways.  Their  gown 
inspires  a  respect  which  guarantees  them 
from  any  insult.  Besides,  Fray  Ambrosio, 
as  the  reader  has  doubtless  already  per- 
ceived, was  not  the  man  to  neglect  indis- 
pensable precautions.  The  worthy  chap- 
lain carried  under  his  gown  a  pair  of  double- 
barreled  pistols,  and  in  his  right  sleeve  he 
concealed  a  long  knife,  sharp  as  a  razor,  and 
pointed  as  a  needle. 

Not  troubling  himself  about  the  solitude 
that  reigned  around  him,  the  monk  mount- 
ed his  mule  and  proceeded  quietly  to  the 
farm.  It  was  about  eleven  o'clock. 

A  few  words  about  Fray  Ambrosio,  while 
he  is  peacefully  ambling  along  the  narrow 
path  which  will  lead  him  in  two  hours  to 
his  destination,  will  show  all  the  perversity 
of  the  man  who  is  destined  to  play  an  un- 
fortunately too  important  part  in  the  course 
of  our  narrative. 

Oue  day  a  gambusino,  or  gold  seeker,  who 
had  disappeared  for  two  years,  no  one  know- 
ing what  had  become  of  him,  and  who  was 
supposed  to  be  dead  long  ago,  assassinated 
in  the  desert  by  the  Indians,  suddenly  re- 
appeared at  the  Paso  del  Norte.  This  man, 
Joaquin  by  name,  was  brother  to  Andres 
Garote,  an  adventurer  of  the  worst  stamp, 
whom  everybody  feared,  but  who,  through 
the  terror  he  inspired,  enjoyed  at  the  Paso 
in  spite  of  his  well -avouched  crimes,  a  repu- 
tation and  species  of  impunity  which  he 
abused  whenever  the  opportunity  offered. 

The  two  brothers  began  frequenting  to- 
gether the  public  places  of  the  village,  drink- 
ing from  morn  till  night,and  paying  either  in 
gold-dust  inclosed  in  stout  quills,  or  in 
lumps  of  native  gold.  The  rumor  soon 
spread  that  Joaquiu  had  discovered  a  rich 
placer,  and  that  his  expenses  were  paid  with 
the  specimens  he  had  brought  back.  The 
gold-seeker  replied  neither  yes  nor  no  to  the 
several  insinuations  which  his  friends,  or 
rather  his  boon  companions,  attempted  on 
him.  He  twinkled  his  eyes,  smiled  myste- 
riously, and  if  it  were  observed  that,  at  the 
rate  he  was  living  at,  he  would  soon  be  ruin- 
ed, lie  shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying : 

"  When  I  have  none  left  I  know  where  to 
find  others." 

And  he  continued  to  enjoy  his  fill  of  all 
the  pleasures  whi«h  a  wretched  hole  like 
Paso  can  furnish. 


MORTAL  COMBAT. 


87 


siy  Ambrosio  had  heard  speak,  like  every 
else,  of  the  asserted  discovery ;  and  his 


one  el 

plan  was  at  once  formed  to  becomu  master 
of  this  man's  secret,  and  rob  him  of  his  dis- 
•covcry,  were  that  possible. 

The  same  evening  Joaquin  and  his  brother 
Andres  were  drinking,  according  to  their 
wont,  in  a  public  house,  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  scamps  like  themselves.  Fray  Am- 
brosio, seated  at  a  table  with  his  hands  hid- 
den in  the  sleeve  of  his  gown,  and  hanging 
his  head,  appeared  plunged  in  serious  re- 
flections, although  he  followed  with  a  cun- 
ning eye  the  various  movements  of  the 
drinkers,  and  not  one  of  their  gestures  es- 
caped him. 

Suddenly  a  man  entered,  with  his  hand 
on  his  lip,  and  throwing  in  the  face  of  the 
tirst  person  he  passed  the  cigarette  he  was 
smoking,  he  planted  himself  in  front  of 
Joaquiu,  to  whom  he  said  nothing,  but  be- 
gan looking  at  him  impudently,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  and  laughing  ironically  at  all 
the  gold-seeker  said.  "  Joaquin  was  not  pa- 
tient ;  he  saw  at  the  first  glance  that  this 
person  wished  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him ; 
and  as  he  was  brave,  and  feared  nobody,  man 
or  demon,  he  walked  boldly  up  to  him,  and 
looking  at  him  fixedly  in  his  turn,  he  said  to 
.him,  as  he  thrust  his  face  in  his  : 

"  Do  you  seek  a  quarrel,  Toinaso  t;" 

"Why  not?"  the  latter  said,  impudently, 
as  he  noisily  placed  his  glass  on  the  table. 

"  I  am  your  man.  We  will  fight  how  you 
please." 

"Bah!"  Tomaso  said,  carelessly,  "let  us 
do  things  properly,  and  tight  with  the  whole 
blade." 

"  Be  it  so." 

The  combats  that  take  place  between  the 
.adventurers  are  truly  like  those  of  wild 
beasts.  These  coarse  men,  with  their  cruel 
instincts,  like  fighting  beyond  all  else.  The 
announcement  of  this  duel  caused  a  thrill 
of  pleasure  to  run  through  the  ranks  of  the 
bandits  who  pressed  round  the  two  men. 
The  fun  was  perfect :  one  of  the  adversaries 
would  doubtless  fall — perhaps  both — cries 
and  yells  of  delight  were  raised  by  the  spec- 
tators. 

The  duel  with  knives  is  the  only  one  that 
exists  in  Mexico,  and  is  solely  left  to  the 
people  of  the  lowest  classes.  This  duel  has 
its  rules,  which  can  not  be  broken  under  any 
pretext.  The  knives  usually  employed,  have 
blades  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  laches  in. 
length,  and  the  duellists  fight  according  to 
the  gravity  of  the  insult,  with  one,  two, 
three,  six  inches,  or  the  entire  blade.  The 
inches  are  carefully  measured,  and  the  hand 
clutches  the  knife  at  the  marked  spot. 

This  time  it  was  a  duel  with  the  whole 
blade,  the  most  terrible  of  all.  With  extra- 
ordinary politeness  and  coolness  the  laud- 
lord  had  a  large  ring  formed  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  where  the  two  adversaries 
stationed  themselves,  about  six  paces  from 
«ach  other  at  the  most. 


A  deep  silence  hung  over  the  room,  a  mo- 
ment previously  so  full  of  life  and  disturb- 
ance :  every  one  anxiously  awaited  the  de- 
nouement of  the  terrible  drama  that  was  pre- 
paring. Fray  Ambrosio  alone  had  not  quit- 
ted his  scat  or  made  a  sign. 

The  two  men  rolled  their  xurapes  round 
their  left  arms,  planted  themselves  firmly  on 
their  outstretched  legs,  bent  their  bodies 
slightly  forward,  and  gently  placing  the 
point  of  the  knife-blade  on  the  arm  rounded 
in  front  of  the  chest,  they  waited,  fixing  on 
each  other  flashing  glances.  A  few  seconds- 
elapsed,  during  which  the  adversaries  re- 
mained perfectly  motionless  :  all  hearts, 
were  contracted,  all  bosoms  heaving. 

Striking  was  the  scene  offered  by  these 
men,  with  their  weather-stained  faces  and 
harsh  features,  and  their  clothes  in  rags,, 
forming  a  circle  round  the  two  combatants 
ready  to  kill  each  other  in  this  mean  room,, 
slightly  illumined  by  a  smoky  lamp,  which 
Hashed  upon  the  blue  blades  of  the  knives ; 
and  in  the  shadow,  almost  disappearing  in 
his  black  gown,  the  monk,  with  his  impla- 
cable glance  and  mocking  smile,  who,  like  a 
tiger  thirsting  for  blood,  awaited  the  hour 
to  pounce  on  his  prey. 

Suddenly,  by  a  spontaneous  movement 
rapid  as  lightning,  the  adversaries  rushed 
on  each  other,  uttering  a  yell  of  fury.  The 
blades  flashed,  there  was  a  clashing  of  steel, 
and  both  fell  back  again.  Joaquin  and  To- 
maso had  both  dealt  the  same  stroke,  called, 
in  the  slang  of  the  country,  the  "  blow  of 
the  brave  man."  Each  had'his  face  slashed 
from  top  to  bottom. 

The  spectators  frenziedly  applauded  this 
magnificent  opening  scene. 

"  What  a  glorious  fight !"  they  exclaimed 
with  admiration. 

In  the  mean  while  the  two  combatants 
•were  again  watching  for  the  moment  to  leap 
on  one  another.  Suddenly  they  broke 
ground;  but  this  time  it  was  no  skirmish, 
but  the  real  fight,  atrocious  and  merciless. 
They  seized  each  other  round  the  waist,  and, 
entwined  like  serpents,  they  twisted  about, 
uud  excited  themselves  to  the  struggle  by 
cries  of  rage  and  triumph.  The  enthusiasm 
of  the  spectators  was  at  its  hight :  they 
laughed,  clapped  hands,  and  uttered  inartic- 
ulate howls  as  they  urged  the  fighters  not  to 
loose  their  hold. 

At  length  the  enemies  rolled  on  the 
ground  still  enclasped.  For  some  seconds 
the  fight  still  continued  on  the  ground,  and 
it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  who  was 
conqueror.  All  at  once  one  of  them  bound- 
ed to  his  feet  brandishing  his  knife.  It  was 
Joaquin. 

His  brother  rushed  toward  him  to  congrat- 
ulate him  on  his  victory,  but  suddenly  the 
gold-seeker  tottered  and  fainted.  Tomaso 
did  not  rise  again:  he  remained  motionless, 
stretched  out  on  the  uneven  floor.  He  was 
dead. 

This  scene  had  been  s<?  rapid,  its  conclu- 


THE  TRAM-HUNTER. 


sion  so  unforeseen,  that,  hi  spite  of  them- 
selves, the  spectators  had  remained  dumb, 
and  as  if  struck  with  stupor.  Suddenly  the 
priest,  whom  all  had  forgotten,  rose  and 
walked  into  the  center  of  the  room,  looking 
round  with  a  glance  that  caused  all  to  let 
their  eyes  fall. 

"  Retire,  all  of  you,"  he  said  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  "  now  that  you  have  allowed  this 
deed  worthy  of  savageo  to  be  accomplished. 
The  priest,  must  offer  his  ministry,  and  get 
back  from  the  demon,  if  there  be 'still  time, 
the  soul  of  this  Christian  who  is  about  to 
die.  Begone !" 

The  adventurers  hung  their  heads,  and  in 
a  few  moments  the  priest  was  left  alone  with 
the  two  men,  one  of  wham  was  dead,  the 
other  at  the  last  gasp.  No  one  could  say 
what  occurred  in  that  room ;  but  when  the 
priest  left,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  his 
eyes  flashed  wildly.  Joaquin  had  given  his 
parting  sigh.  On  opening  the  door  to  go 
out,  Fray  Ambrosio  jostled  against  a  man, 
who  drew  back  sharply  to  make  room  for 
hitn.  It  was  Andres  Garote.  What  Avas  he 
doing  with  his  eye  at  the  key-hole  while  the 
monk  was  shriving  his  brother  ? 

The  adventurer  told  no  one  what  he  had 
seen  during  this  last  quarter  of  an  hour, 
nor  did  the  monk  notice  in  the  shade  the 
man  he  had  almost  thrown  down. 

Such  was  the  way  in  Avhieh  Fray  Ambro- 
sio became  master  of  the  gold-seeker's  sn- 
cret,  and  how  he  alone  knew  at  present  the 
spot  where  the  placer  was. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TWO  VARIETIES   OF   VLLLA1K*. 

Now  that  the  reader  is  well  informed 
touching  Fray  Ambrosio,  we  will  follow  him 
on  his  road  home.  The  night  was  calm,  si- 
lent, and  serene.  Not  a  sound  troubled  the 
silence,  save  the  trot  of  the  mule  over  the 
pebbles  on  the  road,  or  at  times,  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  snapping  bark  of  the  coyotes 
chasing  in  a  pack,  according  to  their  wont, 
some  straggling  hind. 

Fray  Ambrosio  ambled  gently  on,  while 
reflecting  on  the  events  of  the  evening,  and 
calculating  mentally  the  probable  profits  of 
the  expedition  he  meditated.  He  had  left 
far  behind  him  the  last  houses  of  the  village, 
and  was  advancing  cautiously  along  a  narrow 
path  that  wound  through  an  immense  sugar- 
cane field.  Already  the  shadow  of  the  farm- 
house walls  stood  out  blackly  in  the  hori- 
/on.  He  expected  to  reach  it  in  twenty 
minutes,  when  suddenly  his  mule,  which 
had  hitherto  gone  so  quietly,  pricked  up  its 
ears,  raised  its  head,  and  stopped  short. 

Roughly  aroused  from  his  meditations  by 
this  unexpected  halt,  the  monk  looked  about 
for  some  obstacle  that  might  impede  his 
progress.  About  ten  paces  from  him  a  man 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  path. 


Fray  Ambrosio  was  a  man  not  easily  to  be 
frightened  :  besides,  he  was  well  armed.  He 
drew  out  one  of  the  pistols  hidden  under 
his  gown,  cocked  it,  and  prepared  to  cross- 
question  the  person  who  so  resolutely  barred 
his  way.  But  the  latter,  at  the  sharp  sound 
of  setting  the  hammer,  thought  it  prudent 
to  make  himself  known,  and  uoi  await  the 
consequences  of  an  address  nearly  always 
stormy  under  similar  circumstances. 

"  Hallo !"  he  shouted  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  return  your  pistol  to  your  belt,  Fray  Am- 
brosio; 1  only  want  to  talk  with  }rou." 

"  The  hour  and  moment  are  singularly 
chosen  for  a  friendly  conversation,  my  good 
fellow,"  said  the  monk. 

"  Time  belongs  to  nobody,"  the  stranger 
answered  senteutiously.  "I  am  obliged  to 
choose  that  which  I  have  at  my  disposal." 

"  That  is  true,"  the  monk  said  as  lie 
quietly  uncocked  his  pistol,  though  not  re- 
turning it  to  his  belt.  u  Who  are  you,  and 
why  are  you  so  anxious  to  speak  with  me  ? 
Do  you  want  to  confess?" 

"  Have  you  not  recognized  me  yet,  Fray 
Ambrosio  ?  Must  I  tell  you  my  name  that 
you  may  know  with  whom  you  have  to 
deal?" 

"  Needless,  my  good  sir,  needless  ;  but 
how  is  it,  Red  Cedar,  that  1  meet  you  here  ? 
What  can  you  have  so  pressing  to  communi- 
cate to  me  ?" 

"  You  shall  know  if  you  will  stop  for  a 
l'e\v  moments  and  dismount." 

"  The  deuce  take  you  with  your  whims! 
Can  not  you  tell  me  that  as  well  to-morrow  ? 
Night  is  getting  on,  my  home  is  still  some 
distance  off,  and  I  am  literally  worn  out." 

"  Bah !  you  will  sleep  capitally  by  the  side 
of  a  ditch,  where  you  could  not  be  more 
comfortable.  Besides,  what  I  have  to  say  to 
you  does  not  admit  of  delay." 

"  You  wish  to  make  a  proposal  to  me, 
then  ?" 
Yes." 

What  about,  if  you  please  ?" 
About  the  affair  we  discussed  this  even- 
ing at  the  Paso." 

Why,  I  fancied  that  we  had  settled  all 
that,  and  you  accepted  my  offer." 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,  my  master.  That  will 
depend  upon  the  conversation  we  are  about 
to  have,  so  you  had  better  dismount  and  sit 
down  quietly  by  my  side ;  for  if  you  don't  do 
it,  it  will  come  to  nothing." 

"  The  deuce  take  people  who  change  their 
minds  every  minute,  and  on  whom  one  can 
not  reckon  more  than  on  an  old  surplice!" 
the  monk  growled  with  an  air  of  annoyance, 
while,  for  all  that,  getting  off  his  inule, 
which  he  fastened  to  a  shrub. 

The  squatter  did  not  seem  to  remark  the 
chaplain's  ill-temper,  and  let  him  sit  down 
by  his  side  without  uttering  a  syllable. 

"  Here  I  am,"  the  monk  went  on,  so  soon 
as  he  was  seated.  "  I  really  do  not  know, 
Red  Cedar,  why  I  yield  so  easily  to  all  your 
whims." 


THE  MOltK  CORNERED. 


'*  Because  you  suspect  that  your  interest 
depends  on  it :  were  it  not  for  that  you  woiild 
not  do  so.1' 

"  Why  talk  thus  in  the  open  country,  in 
>toad  oi'  going  to  your  house,  where  we 
»hould  be  much  more  comfortable?" 

Red  Cedar  shook  his  head  in  denial. 

"  No,"  he  said;  "  the  open  is  better  for 
what  we  have  to  talk  about.  Ik-re,  we  need 
not  fear  listeners  at  our  doors." 

"  That  is  true.  Well,  go  on  ;  I  am  listen 
ing." 

"  Hum!  you  insist  upon  my  dorirtnanding 
the  expedition  you  project?" 

u  Of  course.  I  have  known  you  a  long- 
time. I  am  aware  that  you  are  a  sure  man, 
perfectly  versed  in  Indian  signs ;  for  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  the  greater  part  of  your  life 
has  been  spent  among  them." 

"  Do  not  speak  about  what  I  have  done. 
The  question  now  concerns  you,  and  not 
inc." 

"  How  so?" 

"Good,  good!  Let  me  speak.  You 
need  me,  so  it  is  to  my  interest  to  make 
you  pay  as  dearly  as  1  can  for  me." 

"  Eh?"  the  monk  muttered,  as  he  made  a 
grimace.  "  I  am  not  rich,  as  you  are 
aware.' ' 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  that,  so  soon  as  y<ou 
have  a  few  piastres  or  ounces,  the  monte 
table  strips  you  of  them  immediately." 

"  Hang  it !  I  have  always  been  unlucky  at 
play." 

"  For  that  reason  I  do  not  intend  asking 
you  for  money." 

"Very  good.  If  you  have  no  designs  on 
my  purse  we  can  easily  come  to  an  under- 
standing. You  may  speak  boldly." 

"I  hope  that  we  shall  easily  understand 
one  another,  the  more  so  as  the  service  I 
expect  from  you  is  almost  a  mere  nothing." 

"Come  to  the  point,  Red  Cedar:  and 
leave  off  twining  your  phrases  together." 

"  You  know  that  I  have  a  deadly  hatred 
against  Don  Miguel  Zarate  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  some  say  about  it.  Did  he 
not  lodge  his  knife  somewhere  in  your 
chest?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  blow  was  so  rude  that  I  all 
but  died  of  it;  but,  I  am  on  my  legs  again, 
after  remaining  for  nearly  three  weeks  on  my 
back  like  a  east  sheep.  I  want  my  re- 


can' t  help  saying  you  are  right :  in 
your  place,  may  Satan  twist  my  neck  if  I 
would  not  do  the  same  !" 

"For  that  I  count  on  your  help." 

"  Hum !  that  is  a  delicate  affair.  I  have  no 
cause  of  complaint  against  Don  Miguel — on 
the  contrary  :  besides,  I  do  not  see  how  I 
can  serve  you." 

"You  shall  see." 

"Go  on,  then;  lam  listening." 

"  He  has  a  daughter !" 

"  Donna  Clara." 

"I  mean  to  carry  her  off." 

44  Deuce   take    the  mad   ideas  'that  pass 


through  your  brain-pan  !  How  would  you 
have  me  help  you  in  carrying  off  the  daugh- 
ter of  Don  Miguel,  to  whom  I  owe  BO  many 
obligations  ?  No,  I  can  not  do  that,  in- 
deed." 

"  You  must,  though." 

"I  will  not,  I  tell  you." 

"Measure  your  words  well,  Fray  Ambro- 
sio,  for  this  conversation  is  serious.  Before 
refu&ing  so  peremptorily  to  give  me  the  help 
J  u? k,  reflect  well." 

"  I  have  reflected,  Red  Cedar,  and  never 
will  I  consent  to  help  you  in  carrying  off  the 
daughter  of  my  benefactor.  Say  what  you 
like,  nothing  will  ever  change  my  resolu- 
tion on  that  head,  for  it  is  inflexible." 

"Perhaps." 

"  Oh !  whatever  may  happen,  I  swear  that 
nothing  will  make  me  alter." 

"  Swear  not,  Fray  Ambrosio,  for  you  will 
be  a  perjurer." 

"Ta,  ta,  ta!  you  are  mad,  my  good  fel- 
low. Don't  let  us  waste  our  time.  If  you 
have  nothing  else  to  say  to  me  I  will  leave 
you,  though  I  take  such  pleasure  in  your 
society." 

The  two  men  were  standing,  and  the  monk 
had  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup.  Red  Cedar 
also  appeared  ready  to  make  a  start.  At 
the  moment  of  separation  a  sudden  idea 
seemed  to  occur  to  the  squatter.  "By  the 
way,"  he  said,  carelessly,  "  be  kind  enough 
to  give  me  some  information  I  require." 

"  What  is  it  now  ?"  the  monk  asked. 

"  Oh !  a,  mere  trifle,"  the  squatter  remark- 
ed, indifferently.  "It  concerns  a  certain 
Don  Pedro  Tudela,  whom  I  think  you  for- 
merly knew." 

"  Eh  ?"  the  monk  exclaimed,  as  he  turned 
with  his  leg  still  in  the  air. 

"Come,  come,  Fray  Ambrosio,"  Red  Ce- 
dar continued,  in  a  jeering  voice,  "let  us 
have  a  little  more  talk  together.  I  will  tell 
you,  if  you  like,  a  very  remarkable  story 
about  this  Don  Pedro,  with  whom  you 
were  acquainted." 

The  monk  was  livid ;  a  nervous  tremor 
agitated  all  his  limbs ;  he  let  loose  his  mule's 
bridle,  and  followed  the  squatter  mechanic- 
ally, who  seated  himself  tranquilly  on  the 
ground,  making  him  a  sign  to  do  the  same. 
The  monk  fell,  suppressing  a  sigh,  and 
wiping  away  the  drops  of  cold  perspiration 
that  beaded  on  his  forehead. 

"  Eh,  eh  !"  the  squatter  continued  at  the 
end  of  a  moment,  "  we  must  allow  that  Don 
Pedro  was  a  charming  gentleman — a  little 
wild,  perhaps ;  but  what  would  you  have  ? 
He  was  young.  I  remember  meeting  him 
at  Albany  a  long  time  ago — how  old  one 
gets  ! — at  the  house  of  one — wait  awhile, 
the  name  has  slipped  my  memory — could 
you  not  help  me  to  it,  Fray  Ambrosio  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  the 
monk  said,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

The  man  was  in  a  state  that  would  have 
produced  pity;  the  veins  in  his  forehead 
were  swollen  ready  to  burst :  he  was  chok- 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


ing;  his  right  hand  clutched  the  hilt  of  his 
dagger ;  and  he  bent  on  the  squatter  a 
glance  full  of  deadly  hatred.  The  latter 
seemed  to  see  nothing  of  all  this. 

"  I  have  it!"  he  continued.  "  The  man's 
name  was  Walter  Brunnel,  a  very  worthy 
gentle-man." 

"Demon!"  the  monk  howled,  in  a  gasp- 
ing voice,  "  I  know  not  who  made  you  mas- 
ter of  that  horrible  secret,  but  you  shall 
die." 

Aud  he  rushed  upon  him  dagger  in  hand. 

Red  Cedar  had  known  Fra}''  Ambrosio  a 
long  time,  and  was  on  his  guard.  By  a 
rapid  movement  he  checked  his  arm,  twisted 
it,  and  seized  the  dagger,  which  he  threw  a 
long  distance  off. 

"Enough!"  he  said,  in  a  harsh  voice. 
"We  understand  one  another,  my  master. 
Do  not  play  that  game  with  me,  for  you  will 
be  sick  of  it,  I  warn  you." 

The  monk  fell  back  on  the  ground,  with- 
out the  strength  to  make  a  sign  or  utter  a 
syllable.  The  squatter  regarded  him  for  a 
moment  with  mingled  pity  and  contempt, 
and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  For  sixteen  years  I  have  held  this  se- 
cret," he  said,  "and  it  has  never  passed  my 
lips.  I  will  continue  to  keep  silence  on 
one  condition." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me  in  carrying  off 
thehaciendero's  daughter." 

"1  will  do  it." 

"  Good  !  I  count  on  your  word.  Besides, 
you  may  be  easy,  master :  I  will  watch  you.'' 

"Enough  of  threats.  What  is  to  be 
done?" 

"  Whem  do  we  start  lor  Apacheria  ?" 

"  You  are  corning,  then?" 

"Of  course." 

A  sinister  smile  played  round  the  monk's 
pale  lips. 

"  We  shall  start  in  a  week,"  he  said. 

"  Good !  On  the  day  of  the  start  you  will 
hand  over  the  girl  to  me,  one  hour  before 
our  departure." 

"  What  shall  1  do  to  compel  her  to  follow 
me  ?" 

"  That  Is  not  my  business." 

"  Be  it  so,"  the  monk  said,  with  an  effort. 
"I  will  do  it;  but  remember,  if  lever  hold 
you  in  my  hands,  as  I  am  this  day  in  yours, 
I  shall  be  pitiless,  and  make  you  pay  for  all 
I  suffer  at  this  moment." 

"  You  will  be  right  to  do  so — it  is  your 
due :  still  I  doubt  whether  you  will  ever  be 
able  to  reach  me." 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Live  and  learn.  In  the  meanwhile  I  am 
your  master,  and  I  reckon  on  your  obedi- 
ence." 

" I  will  obey." 

"That is  settled.  Now  one  thing  more: 
how  many  men  have  you  enlisted  this  eve- 
ning?" * 

"About  twenty." 

44  That's  not  many;  but,  with  the  sixty  I 


shall  supply,  we  shall  have  a  very  decent 

band  to  hold  the  Indians  in  check." 

"  May  heaven  grant  it !" 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  my  master,"  the 
squatter  said,  re-assuming  the  friendly  tone 
which  he  employed  at  the  outset  of  tke 
conversation ;  "  I  pledge  myself  to  lead  you 
straight  to  your  pJacer.  1  have  not  lived 
ten  years  with  the  Indians  not  to  be  up  to 
all  their  tricks." 

"  Of  course,"  the  monk  answered  as  he 
rose,  "you  know,  Red  Cedar,  what  was 
agreed  upon :  the  placer  will  be  shared  be- 
tween us.  It  is,  therefore,  to  your  interest 
to  enable  us  to  reach  it  without  obstacle." 

"  We  shall  reach  it.  Now  that  we  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  each  other,  and  have 
agreed  on  all  points — for  we  have  done  so, 
I  think?"  he  said,  significantly. 

"Yes,  all." 

"We can  part,  and  go  each  home.  No 
matter,  my  master !  I  told  yon  that  I  should 
succeed  in  making  .you  alter  your  mind. 
Look  you,  Fray  Ambrosio,"  he  added,  in  an 
impudent  tone,  which  made  the  monk  turn 
pale  with  rage,  "people  need  only  to  un- 
derstand one  another  to  do  any  thing." 

He  rose,  threw  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder, 
and  turning  away  sharply,  went  off  with 
lengthened  strides.  The  monk  remained 
for  a  moment  as  if  stunned  by  what  had 
happened.  Suddenly  he  thrust  his  hand 
under  his  gown,  seized  a  pistol,  and  aimed 
at  the  squatter.  But  ere  he  had  time  to  pull 
the  trigger  his  enemy  disappeared,  utter- 
ing a  formidable  burst  of  laughter,  which 
the  mocking  echo  bore  to  his  ear,  and  re- 
vealed to  him  all  the  immensity  of  his 
impotence. 

"  Oh!"  he  muttered,  as  he  got  in  the  sad 
die,  "how  did  this  demon  discover  the  se 
ci-et  which  I  believed  no  one  knew  ?" 
And  he  went  off  gloomy  and  thoughtful. 
Half  an  hour  later  he  reached  the  farm, 
when  the  gate  was  opened  for  him  by  a  trus- 
ty peon,  for  everybody  was  asleep.     It  was 
past  midnight. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  HUNTER'S  CAVE. 

WE  will  now  return  to  Don  Miguel,  who, 
accompanied  by  his  two  friends,  is  g'allop- 
ing  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of  Valen- 
tine's hut.  Around  them  nature  grew  more 
abrupt,  the  scenery  sterner.  They  had  left 
the  forest,  and  were  galloping  over  a  wide 
and  arid  plain.  On  each  side  of  the  way 
the  trees,  becoming  rarer,  defiled  like  a  le- 
gion of  phantoms.  They  crossed  several 
tributary  streams  of  the  Del  Norte,  in  which 
their  horses  were  immersed  up  to  the  chest. 

At  length  they  entered  a  ravine  deeply 
imbedded  between  two  wooded  hills,  the  soil 
of  which  was  composed  of  large  flat  stones 
and  rounded  pebbles.  They  had  reached 
the  Canon  del  Buitve,  so  named  on  account 


THE  GROTTO. 


41 


i 


of  the  numerous  vultures  constantly  perch- 
ed on  the  tops  of  the  surrounding  hills. 

The  defile  was  deserted,  and  Valentine 
had  his  cabin  not  far  from  this  spot.  So 
soon  as  the  three  men  had  dismounted, 
Curumilla  took  the  horses  and  led  them  to 
the  jacal. 

"  Follow  me,"  Valentine  said  to  Don 
Miguel. 

The  latter  obeyed,  and  the  two  men  be- 
gan then  climbing  the  escarped  flanks  of 
the  right-hand  hill.  The  climb  was  rude, 
for  no  road  was  traced ;  but  the  two  hunt- 
ers, long  accustomed  to  force  a  passage 
through  the  most  impracticable  places,  seem- 
ed hardly  to  perceive  the  difficulty  of  the 
ascent,  which  would  have  been  impossible 
for  men  less  used  to  a  desert  life. 

"This  spot  is  really  delicious,"  Valentine 
said,  with  the  complacent  simplicity  of  a 
land-owner  who  boasts  of  his  estate*.  "If 
it  were  day,  Don  Miguel,  you  would  enjoy 
from  this  spot  a  magnificent  view." 

"  But  where  are  you  leading  me,  my 
friend  ?  Are  you  aware  that  the  road  is  not 
one  of  the  pleasantest,  and  I  am  beginning 
to  feel  tired  ?" 

"A  little  patience:  in  ten  minutes  we 
shall  arrive.  I  am  leading  you  to  a  natural 
grotto  which  I  discovered  a  short  time  back. 
It  is  admirable.  At  any  rate,  I  was  so  struck 
by  its  beauty  that  I  temporarily  abandoned 
my  cabin,  and  converted  it  into  my  residence. 
Its  extent  is  immense.  I  am  certain,  though 
I  never  tried  to  convince  myself,  that  it  goes 
for  more  than  ten  leagues  under  ground.  I 
will  not  allude  to  the  stalactites  that  hang 
from  the  roof,  and  form  the  quaintest  and 
most  curious  designs ;  but  stay — we  have  ar- 
rived." 

In  fact,  they  found  themselves  in  front  of 
a  gloomy,  gaping  orifice,  about  ten  feet  high 
by  eight  wide. 

"  Let  me  do  the  honors  of  my  mansion," 
Valentine  said. 

"  Do  so,  my  friend." 

The  two  men  entered  the  grotto :  the 
huntei  struck  a  match,  and  lit  a  torch  of 
candle-wood.  The  fairy  picture  which  sud- 
denly rose  before  Don  Miguel  drew  from  him 
a  cry  of  admiration.  There  was  an  indescrib- 
able confusion :  here  a  Gothic  chapel,  with 
its  graceful,  soaring  pillars :  further  on,  obe- 
lisks, cones,  trunks  of  trees  covered  with 
moss  and  acanthus  leaves,  hollow  stalactites 
of  a  cylindrical  form,  drawn  together  and 
ranged  side  by  side  like  the  pipes  of  an  or- 
gan, and  yielding  to  the  slightest  touch  va- 
ried metallic  sounds  which  completed  the  il- 
lusion. Then,  in  the  immeasurable  depths 
of  these  cavernous  halls,  at  times  formid- 
able sounds  arose,  which,  returned  by  the 
echoes,  rolled  along  the  sides  of  the  grotto 
like  peals  of  thunder. 

Oh,  it  is  grand,  it  is  grand !"  Don  Mig- 

1  exclaimed,  struck  with  fear  and  respect 

the  sight. 

"  Does  not    man,"  Valentine   answered, 


"  feel  very  small  and  miserable  before  these 
sublime  creations  of  nature,  which  God  has 
scattered  here  as  if  in  sport  ?  Oh,  my  friend ! 
it  is  only  in  the  desert  that  we  understand 
the  grandeur  and  infinite  omnipotence  of  the 
Supreme  Being;  for  at  every  step  man  finds 
himself  face  to  face  with  Him  who  placed 
him  on  this  earth,  and  traces  the  mark  of 
His  mighty  finger  engraved  in  an  indelible 
manner  on  every  thing  that  presents  itself 
to  his  sight." 

'.'  Yes^~"  Don  Miguel  said,  who  had  sudden- 
ly become  thoughtful,  "it  is  only  in  the 
desert  that  a  man  learns  to  know,  love,  and 
fear  God,  for  He  is  everywhere." 

"  Come,"  said  Valentine. 

He  led  his  friend  to  a  hall  of  not  more 
than  twenty  square  feet,  the  vault  of  which, 
however,  was  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
above  them.  In  this  hull  a  lire  was  lighted, 
The  two  men  sat  down  on  the  ground  and 
waited,  while  thinking  deeply.  After  a  few 
moments  the  sound  of  footsteps  was  audible, 
and  the  Mexican  quickly  raised  his  head. 
Valentine  did  not  stir,  for  he  had  recognized 
his  friend's  tread.  In  fact,  within  a  moment 
the  Indian  chief  appeared. 

"Well?"  Valentine  asked  him. 

"  Nothing  yet,"  Curumilla  laconically  an- 
swered. 

"  They  are  late,  I  fancy,"  Don  Miguel  ob- 
served. 

"  No,"  the  chief  continued,  "  it  is  hardly 
past  eleven:  we  are  before  our  time." 

"  But  will  they  find  us  here?" 

"  They  know  we  shall  await  them  in  this 
hall."  ' 

After  these  few  words  each  fell  back  into 
hi?  thoughts.  The  silence  was  only  troubled 
by  the  mysterious  sounds  of  the  grotto, 
which  reechoed  nearly  at  equal  intervals 
with  a  horrific  din.  Along  period  elapsed. 
All  at  once,  ere  any  sensible  noise  had  warn- 
ed Don  Miguel,  Valentine  raised  his  head 
with  a  hurried  movement. 

"  Here  they  are,"  he  said. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  friend,"  Don 
Miguel  observed;  "  I  heard  nothing." 

The  hunter  smiled. 

"  If  you  had  spent,"  he  said,  "  as  we 
have,  ten  years  in  the  desert,  interrogating 
the  mysterious  voices  of  the  night,  your  ear 
would  be  habituated  to  the  vague  rumors 
and  sighs  of  nature  which  have  no  meaning 
to  you  at  this  moment,  but  which  have  all 
a  significance  for  me,  and,  so  to  speak,  a 
voice  every  note  of  which  1  understand,  and 
you  would  not  say  1  was  mistaken.  Ask 
the  chief:  you  will  hear  his  answer." 

"  Two  men  are  climbing  the  hill  at  this 
moment,"  Curumilla  answered  sententious- 
ly.  "  They  are  an  Indian  and  a  white  man." 

"  How  can  you  recognize  the  distinc- 
tion?" 

"  Very  easily,"  Valentine  responded  with 
a  smile.  "  The  Indian  wears  moccasins, 
which  touch  the  ground  without  producing 
any  other  sound  than  u  species  of  friction; 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


the  step  is  sure  ami  unhesitating,  as  taken 
by  a  man  accustomed  to  walk  in  the  desert, 
and  only  put  down  his  foot  firmly :  the  white 
man  wears  high-heeled  boots,  which  at  each 
step  produce  a  distinct  and  loud  sound ;  the 
spurs  fastened  to  his  boots  give  out  a  con- 
tinous  metallic  clink ;  the  step  is  awkward 
and  timid;  at  each  moment  a  stone  or 
crumble  of  earth  rolls  away  under  the  foot, 
which  is  only  put  down  hesitatingly.  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  the  man  thus  walking  is  ac- 
customed to  a  horse,  and  does  not  know 
the  use  of  his  feet.  Stay  !  they  are  now  en- 
tering the  grotto :  you  will  soon  hear  the 
signal." 

At  this  moment  the  cry  of  the  coyote  was 
raised  thrice  at  equal  intervals.  Valentine 
answered  by  a  similar  cry. 

"  Well,  was  I  mistaken?"  he  said. 

"  1  know  not  what  to  think,  my  friend. 
What  astonishes  me  most  is  that  you  heard 
them  so  long  before  they  arrived." 

"  The  ground  of  this  cave  is  an  excellent 
conductor  of  sound,"  the  hunter  answered 
simply  :  that  is  all  the  mystery." 

"  The  — !"  Don  Miguel  could  not  refrain 
from  saying;  "you  neglect  nothing,  I 
fancy." 

"  If  a  man  wants  to  live  in  the  desert  he 
must  neglect  nothing  :  the  smallest  things 
have  their  importance,  and  an  observation 
carefully  made  may  often  save  a  man's  life." 

While  these  few  words  were  being  exchang- 
ed between  the  two  friends  the  noise  of  foot- 
steps was  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  Two 
men  appeared :  one  was  Eagle-wing,  the 
chief  of  the  Coras :  the  second,  General 
Ibanez. 

The  General  was  a  man  of  about  thirty- 
five,  tall  and  well-built,  with  a  delicate  and 
intelligent  face.  His  manners  were  graceful 
and  noble.  He  bowed  cordially  to  the  haci- 
cndero  and  Valentine,  squeezed  Curumilla's 
hand,  and  fell  down  in  a  sitting  posture  by 
the  fire. 

"  Ouf !"  he  said.  "  I  am  done,  gentlemen. 
I  have  just  ridden  an  awful  distance.  My 
poo>*  horse  is  foundered,  and  to  recover  my- 
self I  made  an  ascent,  during  which  I 
thought  twenty  times  I  must  break  down  ; 
and  that  would  have  infallibly  happened, 
had  not  friend  Eagle-wing  charitably  come 
to  my  aid.  I  must  confess  that  these  Indians 
climb  like  real  cats." 

"  At  length  you  have  arrived,  my  friend," 
Don  Miguel  answered.  "  Heaven  be  prais- 
ed !  I  was  anxious  to  see  yon." 

"  For  my  part  I  confess  that  my  im- 
patience was  equally  lively,  especially  since 
I  learned  the  treachery  of  that  scoundrelly 
Red  Cedar.  That  humbug  of  a  Wood  sent 
him  to  me  with  so  warm  a  recommendation 
that,  in  spite  of  all  my  prudence,  I  let  my- 
self be  taken  in,  and  nearly  told  him  all  our 
secrets.  Unfortunately  the  little  I  did  let 
him  know  is  sufficient  to  have  us  shot  a  hun- 
dred times  like  vulgar  conspirators  of  no 
consequence." 


"Do  not  feel  alarmed,  my  friend.  After 
what  Valentine  told  me  to-day  we  hare, 
perchance,  a  way  of  foiling  the  tricks  of  the 
infamous  spy  who  has  denounced  us." 

"  May  Heaven  grant  it !  But  nothing  will 
remove  my  impression  that  Wood  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  what  has  happened  to  us. 
I  always  doubted  that  man,  who  is  as  cold 
as  an  iceberg,  sour  as  a  glass  of  lemonade, 
and  methodical  as  an  old  Quaker." 

"Who  knows,  my  friend?  Perhaps  you 
are  right.  Unfortunately  what  is  done  can 
not  be  helped,  and  our  retrospective  re- 
criminations will  do  us  no  good." 

"  That  is  true;  but,  as  you  know,  man  is 
the  same  everywhere.  When  he  has  com- 
mitted a  folly  he  is  happy  to  find  a  scape- 
goat on  which  he  can  lay  the  iniquities  with 
which  he  reproaches  himself.  That  is  slight- 
ly my  case  at  this  moment." 

"Do  not  take  more  blame  on  yourself, 
my  friend,  than  you  deserve :  I  guarantee 
your  integrity  and  the  loyalty  of  your  sen- 
timents. Whatever  may  happen,  be  per- 
suaded that  I  will  always  do  you  justice, 
and,  if  needed,  defend  you  against  all." 

"Thanks,  Don  Miguel.  What  you  say 
causes  me. pleasure,  and  reconciles  me  with 
myself.  I  needed  the  assurance  you  give 
me  in  order  to  regain  some  slight  courage, 
and  not  let  myself  be  completely  crushed 
by  the  unforeseen  blow  which  threatens  to 
overthrow  our  hopes  at  the  very  moment 
when  we  expected  to  find  them  realized." 

"  Come,  come,  gentlemen,"  Valentine 
said,  "  time  is  slipping  away,  and  we  have 
none  to  waste.  Let  us  seek  to  find  the 
means  by  which  to  repair  the  check  we  have 
suffered.  If  you  permit  me  1  will  submit  to 
your  approval  a  plan  which,  I  believe,  com- 
bines all  the  desirable  chances  of  success, 
and  will  turn  in  our  favor  the  very  treach- 
ery to  which  we  have  fallen  victims." 

"  Speak,  speak,  my  friend!"  the  two  wen 
exclaimed,  as  they  prepared  to  listen. 

Valentine  took  the  word. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FATHER  SEKAPHIN. 

"GENTLEMEN,"  said  Valentine,  "this  is 
what  I  propose.  The  treachery  of  Red  Ce- 
dar, in  surrendering  to  the  Government  the 
secret  of  your  conspiracy,  places  you  in  a 
critical  position,  from  which  you  can  not 
escape  save  by  violent  measures.  You  are 
between  life  and  death.  You  have  no  al- 
ternative save  victory  or  defeat.  The  pow- 
der is  fired,  the  ground  is  mined  under  your 
feet,  and  an  explosion  is  imminent.  Well, 
then,  pick  up  the  glove  treachery  throws  to 
you — accept  frankly  the  position  offered  you 
Do  not  wait  till  you  are  attacked,  but  com 
rnence  the  contest.  Your  enemies  will  be 
terrified  by  your  boldness — dashed  by  this 
uprising  which  they  are  far  from  expecting 


A  WELCOME  GUEST. 


especially  now,  when  they  imagine  they 
hold  in  their  hands  all  the  threads  of  the 
conspiracy— an  error  which  makes  them  put 
faith  in  the  revelations  of  a  common  spy, 
and  will  ruin  them  if  you  act  with  skill — 
above  all,  with  promptitude.  All  depends 
on  the  first  blow.  It  must  be  terrible,  and 
terrify  them:  if  not,  you  are  lost." 

"All  that  is  true;  but  we  lack  time," 
General  Ibanez  observed. 

"  Time  is  never  lacking  when  a  man  knows 
how  to  employ  it  properly,"  Valentine  an- 
swered, peremptorily.  "  I  repeat,  you  must 
be  beforehand  with  your  adversaries." 

.At  this  moment  the  sound  of  footsteps 
was  heard  under  the  vault  of  the  cave.  The 
most  extreme'  silence  at  once  reigned  in  the 
chamber  where  the  five  conspirators  were 
assembled.  Mechanically  each  sought  bis 
weapons.  The  steps  rapidly  approached, 
and  a  man  appeared  in  the  entrance  of  the 
hall.  On  seeing  him  all  present  uttered  a 
cry  of  joy  and  rose  respectfully,  repeating, 
"  Father  Seraphin  !" 

The  man  advanced  smiling,  bowed  grace- 
fully, and  answered  in  a  gentle  and  melodi- 
ous voice,  which  went  straight  to  the  soul : 

"  Take  your  places  again,  gentlemen,  I 
beg  of  you.  I  should  be  truly  vexed  if  I 
caused  you  any  disturbance.  Permit  me  on- 
ly to  sit  down  for  a  few  moments  by  your 
side." 

They  hastened  to  make  room  for  him. 
Let  us  say  in  a  few  words  who  this  person 
was,  whose  unexpected  arrival  caused  so 
much  pleasure  to  the  people  assembled  in 
the  grotto. 

Father  Seraphiu  was  a  man  of  twenty-four 
at  the  most.  In  spite  of  fatigues  and  harsh 
labors,  which  had  left  numerous  traces  on 
his  face,  his  whole  person  exhaled  a  perfume 
of  youth  and  health. 

He  was  a  Frenchman,  and  belonged  to  the 
order  of  the  Lazarists.  For  five  years  lie 
had  been  traversing,  as  an  indefatigable  niis- 
riary,  with  no  other  weapon  than  his 
',  the  unexplored  solitudes  of  Texas  and 

ew  Mexico,  preaching  the  Gospel  to  the 

"ians,  while  caring  nothing  for  the  terri- 

e  privations  and  nameless  sufferings  he  in- 

sssantly  endured,  and  the  death  constantly 
suspended  over  his  head. 

Father  Seraphin  had  gained  the  friendship 
and  respect  of  all  those  with  whom  accident 
had  brought  him  into  contact.  Charmed 
with  meeting  a  fellow-countryman  in  the 
midst  of  those  vast  solitudes  so  distant  from 
that  France  he  never  hoped  to  see  again,  he 
had  attached  himself  closely  to  Valentine, 
to  whom  he  vowed  a  deep  and  sincere  af- 
fection. From  the  same  motives,  the  hunter, 
who  admired  the  greatness  of  character  of 
this  priest  so  full  of  true  religion,  felt  him- 
self drawn  to  him  by  an  irresistible  liking. 
They  had  frequently  taken  long  journe37s 
together,  the  hunter  guiding  his  friend  to 
the  Indian  tribes  acrobs  the  desolate  regions 
of  Apacheria, 


So  soon  as  Father  Seraphin  had  taken  his 

Elace  near  the  tire,  Eagle-wing  and  Curumilla 
astened  to  offer  him  all  those  slight  serv- 
ices which  they  fancied  might  be  agreeable 
to  him,  and  offered  him  a  few  lumps  of  roast 
venison  witli  maize.  The  missionary  gladly 
gratified  the  two  chiefs,  and  accepted  their 
offerings. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  we  saw  you, 
father,"  the  liaciendero  said.  "You  neg- 
lect us.  My  daughter  asked  me  about  you 
only  two  days  ago,  for  she  is  anxious  to  see 
you." 

"Clara  is  an  angel  who  does  not  require 
me,"  the  missionary  replied,  gently.  "  I 
have  spent  nearly  two  months  with  the 
Comanche  tribe  of  the  Tortoise.  Those 
poor  Indians  claim  all  my  care.  They  are 
thirsting  for  the  Divine  Word." 

"Do  you  reckon  on  staying  long  among 
us?" 

"Yes  ;  this  last  journey  has  fatigued  me 
extremely.  My  health  is  in  a  deplorable- 
state,  and  I  absolutely  need  a  few  days'  rest 
in  order  to  regain  the  requisite  strength  to 
continue  my  ministry." 

"  Well,  father,  come  with  me  to  the  Farm  : 
you  will  remain  with  us,  and  make  us  all 
truly  happy." 

"I  was  going  to  make  that  request  to  you, 
Don  Miguel.  I  am  delighted  that  you  have 
thus  met  my  wishes.  If  I  accept  your 
obliging  offer,  it  is  because  I  know  I  shall 
not  incommode  you." 

"On  the  contrary,  we  shall  be  delighted 
to  have  you  among  us." 

"Ah!  I  know  the  goodness  of  your 
heart." 

"  Do  not  make  me  better  than  I  am,  fath- 
er :  there  is  a  spice  of  egotism  in  what  I  am 
doing." 

"  How  so?" 

"Hang  it!  by  laboring  at  the  education 
of  the  Indians  you  render  an  immense  ser- 
vice to  the  race  I  have  the  honor  of  belong- 
ing to  ;  for  I,  too,  am  an  Indian." 

"That  is  true,"  the  priest  answered,  with 
a  laugh.  "Come,  I  absolve  you  from  the 
sin  of  egotism,  in  favor  of  the  intention 
which  makes  you  commit  it." 

"  Father,"  Valentine  then  said,  "is  the 
game  plentiful  in  the  desert  just  at  present  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  great  deal :  the  buffaloes 
have  come  down  from  the  mountains  in 
herds — the  elks,  the  deer,  and  the  antelopes 
swarm." 

Valentine  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  It  will  be  a  good  season,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  for  you.  As  for  myself,  I  have  no 
cause  of  complaint,  for  the  Indians  have 
been  most  attentive  tome.*' 

"  All  the  better.  I  ever  tremble  when  I 
know  you  are  among  those  red  devils.  I  do 
not  speak  of  the  Comanches,  who  are  warriors 
I  esteem,  and  have  always  displayed  the  sin- 
cerest  affection  for  you ;  but  I  have  a  terri- 
ble fear  lest  those  villains  of  Apaches  may 
play  you  a  wicked  trick  some  fine  day." 


44 


THE  TRAIL- HUNTER. 


"  Why  entertain  such  ideas,  my  friend  ?" 
"  They  are  correct.  You  can  not  imagine 
what  treacherous  and  cruel  cowards  those 
Apache  thieves  are.  I  know  them,  and 
carry  their  marks  ;  but  do  not  frighten  your- 
self. If  ever  they  ventured  on  any  extremi- 
ties against  you,  I  know  the  road  to  their 
villages :  there  is  not  a  nook  in  the  desert 
which  I  have  not  thoroughly  explored.  It 
is  not  for  nothing  I  have  received  the  name 
of  the  '  Trail-hunter.'  I  swear  to  you  I  will 
not  leave  them  a  scalp." 

"  Valentine,  you  know  I  do  not  like  to 
hear  you  speak  so.  The  Indians  are  poor 
ignorant  men,  who  know  not  what  they  do, 
and  must  be  pardoned  for  the  evil  they  com- 
mit." 

"All  right— all  right!"  the  hunter  growl- 
ed.  "You  have  your  ideas  on  that  score, 
and  I  mine." 

"Yes,"  the  missionary  replied,  with  a 
smile,  "but  I  believe  mine  the  better." 

"  It  is  possible.  You  know  I  do  not  dis- 
cuss that  subject  with  you ;  for  I  know  not 
how  you  do  it,  but  you  always  succeed  in 
proving  to  me  that  I  am  wrong." 

Everybody  laughed  at  this  sally. 

"  And  what  are  the  Indians  doing  at  this 
moment?"  Valentine  continued.  "Are 
they  still  fighting  ?" 

"No;  I  succeeded  in  bringing  Unicorn, 
the  principal  chief  of  the  Comanches,  and 
Stanapat  (the  Handful  of  Blood,)  the  Apache 
sachem,  to  an  interview,  at  which  peace  was 
sworn." 

"Hum!"  Valentine  said,  incredulously, 
"  that  peace  will  not  last  long,  for  Unicorn 
has  too  many  reasons  to  owe  the  Apaches  a 
grudge." 

"  Nothing  leads  to  the  supposition,  at 
present,  that  your  forebodings  will  be  speedi- 
ly realized." 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"Because,  when  I  left  Unicorn,  he  was 
preparing  for  a  grand  buffalo-hunt,  in  which 
live  hundred  picked  warriors  were  to  take 
part." 

"Ah,  ah!  and  where  do  you  think  the 
hunt  will  take  place,  father  ?" 

"I  know  for  a  certainty,  because,  when  I 
left  Unicorn,  he  begged  me  to  invite  you  to 
it,  as  he  knew  I  should  see  you  shortly." 

"I  willingly  accept,  for  a  buffalo-hunt  al- 
ways had  great  attractions  for  me." 

"You  will  not  have  far  to  go  to  find  Uni- 
corn, for  he  is  scarce  ten  leagues  from  this 
place." 

"The  hunt  will  take  place,  then,  in  the 
7ieighborhood?" 

"The  meeting -place  is  Yellowstone 
Plain." 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  be  there,  father.  Ah ! 
I  am  delighted,  more  than  you  can  suppose, 
at  the  happy  news  you  have  brought  me." 

"  All  the  better,  my  friend.  Now,  gentle- 
men, I  will  ask  you  to  excuse  me ;  for  I  feel 
so  broken  with  fatigue  that,  with  your  per- 
mission, I  will  go  and  take  a  lew  hours'  res>t." 


"  I  was  a  fool  not  to  think  of  it  before," 
Valentine  exclaimed  with  vexation  as  hft 
struck  his  forehead.  "  Pardon  me,  father." 
"  I  thought  for  my  brother,"  said  Curu- 
milla.  "  If  my  father  will  follow  me  all  is 
ready." 

The  missionary  thanked  him  with  a  smile 
and  rose,  bowed  to  all  present,  and,  support- 
ed by  Eagle-wing,  he  followed  Curumilla  in- 
to another  chamber  of  the  grotto.  Father 
Seraphin  found  a  bed  of  dry  leaves  covered 
with  bear-skins,  and  a  fire  so  arranged  as  to 
burn  all  night.  The  two  Indians  retired 
after  bowing  respectfully  to  the  father,  and 
assuring  themselves  that  he  needed  nothing 
more. 

After  kneeling  on  the  ground  of  the  grot- 
to, Father  Seraphin  laid  himself  on  his  bed 
of  leaves,  crossed  his  arms  on  his  chest,  and 
fell  into  that  child-like  sleep  which  only  the 
just  enjoy.  After  his  departure  Valentine 
bent  over  to  his  two  friends. 

"  All  is  saved,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  How  ?    Explain  yourself,"  they  eagerly 
answered. 

"  Listen  to  me.   You  will  spend  the  night 
here :  at  daybreak  you  will  start  for    the 
Farm  accompanied  by  Father  Seraphin." 
"Good!     What  next?" 
"  General  Ibanez  will  proceed,   as  from 
you,  to  the  Governor,  and  invite  him  to  a 
grand  hunt  of  wild  horses,  to  take  place  in 
three  days." 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  you  are  driv- 
ing at." 

"  That  is  not  necessary  at  this  moment. 
Let  me  guide  you ;  but  above  all  arrange  it 
so  that  all  the  authorities  of  the  town  accept 
your  invitation  and  are  present  at  the 
hunt." 

"  That  I  take  on  myself." 
"  Very  good.  You,  General,  will  collect  all 
the  men  you  can,  so  that  they  can  support 
you  on  a  given  signal,  but  hide  themselves 
so  that  no  one  can  suspect  their  presence." 
"Very  good,"   Don    Miguel    answered: 
"  all  shall  be  done  as  you  recommend.    But 
where  will  you  be  all  this  while  ?" 

"  You  know  very  well,"  he  answered  with 
a  smile  of  undefinable  meaning.  "  I  shall 
be  hunting  the  buffalo  with  my  friend  Uni- 
corn, the  great  chief  of  the  Comanches." 

Hastily  breaking  off  the  interview,  the 
hunter  wrapped  himself  in  his  buffalo-robe, 
stretched  himself  before  the  fire,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  slept,  or  feigned  to  sleep.  After 
a  few  minutes'  hesitation  his  friends  imitated 
his  example,  and  the  grotto  became  calm 
and  silent  as  on  the  day  of  the  creation. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

UNICORN. 

BEFORE  retiring  to  rest,  Father  Seraphin, 
on  the  previous  evening,  had  whispered  a 
couple  of  word*  in  the  Indians'  ears.  The 


ON 


•on  had  scarce  begun  to  rise  a  little  above 
the  extreme  blue  line  of  the  horizon  ere  the 
missionary  opened  his  eyes,  and  after  a  short 
prayer  hurried  to  the  hall  in  which  his  com- 
panions had  remained.  The  four  men  were 
still  asleep,  wrapped  in  their  furs  and  buffalo- 
skins. 

"  Wake  up,  brothers,"  Father  Seraphin 
said,  "  for  day  is  appearing." 

The  four  men  started  up  in  an  instant. 

It  was  a  magnificent  morning;  thousands 
of  birds,  hidden  beneath  the  foliage,  salu- 
ted the  birth  of  day  with  their  harmonious 
songs;  a  fickle  breeze  poured  through  the 
branches,  and  refreshed  the  air ;  in  the  dis- 
tance, as  far  as  eye  could  extend,  undulated 
the  prairie,  with  its  oceans  of  tall  grass  in- 
cessantly agitated  by  the  hurried  footfalls 
of  the  wild  beasts  returning  to  their  dens. 
An  hour  later,  Don  Miguel,  General  Ibanez, 
and  the  missionary  took  leave  of  Valentine, 
and,  mounted  on  their  horses,  which  Curu- 
milla  had  led  to  the  entrance  of  the  ravine, 
they  started  at  a  gallop  in  the  directiofi  of 
the  Paso  del  Norte,  whence  they  were  about 
twenty  leagues  distant.  Valentine  and  the 
two  Indian  chiefs  remained  behind. 

"  I  am  about  to  leave  my  brother,"  Eagle- 
wing  said. 

"Why  not  remain  with  us,  chief?" 

"  My  pale  brother  no  longer  requires 
Eagle-wing.  The  chief  hears  the  cries  of 
the  men  and  women  of  his  tribe  who  were 
cowardly  assassinated,  and  demand  venge- 
ance." 

"Where  goes  my  brother?"  the  hunter 
asked,  who  was  too'  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  character  of  the  Indians  to  try  and 
change  the  warrior's  determination,  though 
he  was  vexed  at  his  departure. 

"  The  Coras  dwell  in  villages  on  the  banks 
of  the  Colorado.  Eagle-wing  is  returning 
to  his  friends.  He  will  ask  for  warriors  to 
avenge  his  brothers  who  are  dead." 

Valentine  bowed. 

"May  the  Great  Spirit  protect  my  fath- 
er!" he  said.  "The  road  is  long  to  the 
villages  of  his  tribe.  The  chief  is  leaving 
friends  who  love  him." 

"Eagle- wing  knows  it:  he  will  remem- 
ber," the  chief  said,  with  a  deep  intonation. 

And,  after  pressing  the  hands  the  two 
hunters  held  out  to  him,  he  bounded  on  his 
horse,  and  soon  disappeared  in  the  windings 
of  the  canon.  Valentine  watched  his  de- 
parture with  a  sad  and  melancholy  look. 

"  Shall  I  ever  see  him  again?"  he  mur- 
mured. "He  is  an  Indian:  he  is  following 
his  vengeance.  It  is  his  nature :  he  obeys 
it,  and  God  will  judge  him.  Every  man 
must  obey  his  destiny^" 

The  hunter  threw  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder 
and  started  in  his  turn,  followed  by  Curu- 
milla.  Valentine  and  his  comrade  were  on 
foot:  they  preferred  that  mode  of  traveling, 
which  seemed  to  them  sure,  and  quite  as 
quick  as  on  horseback.  The  two  men,  after 
the  Indian  custom,  walked  one  behind  the 


45 

other,  not  uttering  a  syllable ;  but  toward 
mid-day  the  heat  became  so  insupportable, 
that  they  were  obliged  to  stop  to  take  a 
few  moments'  repose.  At  length  the  sun- 
beams lost  their  strength,  the  evening 
breeze  rose,  and  the  hunters  could  resume 
their  journey.  They  soon  reached  the  banks 
of  the  Rio  Puerco  (Dirty  River,)  which  they 
began  ascending,  keeping  as  close  as  they 
could  to  the  banks,  while  following  the 
tracks  made  since  time  immemorial  by  wild 
animals  coming  down  to  drink. 

The  man  unacquainted  with  the  splendid 
American  scenery  will  have  a  difficulty  in 
imagining  the  imposing  and  savage  majesty 
of  the  prairie  the  huuters  were  traversing. 
The  river,  studded  Avith  islets  covered  with 
cottomvood  trees,  flowed  silent  and  rapid 
between  banks  of  slight  elevation,  aud  over- 
grown with  grass  so  tall  that  it  obeyed  the 
impulse  of  the  wind,  and  for  a  great  dis- 
tance northward  the  ground  was  broad- 
cast Avith  large  lumps  of  pebble  resembling 
grave-stones. 

At  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  river 
rose  a  conical  mound,  bearing  on  its  summit 
a  granite  obelisk  one  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  in  hight.  The  Indians,  who,  like  all 
primitive  nations,  are  caught  by  any  thing 
strange,  frequently  assembled  at  this  spot. 

A  great  number  of  buffalo-skulls,  piled 
up  at  the  foot  of  the  column,  and  arranged 
in  circles,  ellipses,  and  other  geometrical 
figures,  attest  their  piety  for  this  god  of  the 
hunt,  whose  protecting  spirit,  they  say, 
looks  down  from  the  top  of  the  monolith. 
Here  and  there  grew  patches  of  the  Indian 
potato,  wild  onion,  prairie  tomato,  and 
those  millions  of  strange  flowers  and  trees 
composing  the  American  flora.  The  rest  of 
the  country  Avas  covered  Avith  tall  grass, 
continually  undulating  beneath  the  light 
footfall  of  the  graceful  antelopes  or  big- 
horns, which  bounded  from  one  rock  to  the 
other,  startled  by  the  approach  of  the  travel- 
ers. 

Far,  far  away  on  the  horizon,  mingled  with 
the  azure  of  the  sky,  appeared  the  denuded 
peaks  of  the  lofty  mountains  that  serve  as 
unassailable  fortresses  to  the  Indians :  their 
summits,  covered  with  eternal  SHOAV,  formed 
the  frame  of  this  immense  and  imposing 
picture,  which  Avas  stamped  Avith  a  gloomy 
and  mysterious  grandeur. 

At  the  hour  Avhen  the  maukawis  uttered 
its  last  song  to  salute  the  setting  of  the 
sun,  Avhich,  half  plunged  in  the  purple  of 
evening,  still  jaspered  the  sky  Avith  long  red 
bands,  the  travelers  perceived  the  tents  of 
the  Comanches  picturesquely  grouped  on 
the  sides  of  a  verdurous  hill.  The  Indians 
had,  in  a  few  hours,  improvised  a  real  village 
Avith  their  buffalo-skin  tents,  aligned  to 
form  streets  and  squares. 

On  arriving  at  about  live  hundred  yards 
from  the  village  the  hunters  suddenly  per- 
ceived an  Indian  horseman.  Evincing  not 
the  slightest  surorise.  thev  stouoed  anduu- 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


folded  their  buffalo-robes,  which  floated  in 
the  breeze,  as  a  signal  of  peace.  The  horse- 
man uttered  a  loud  cry.  At  this  signal — for 
it  was  evidently  one — a  troop  of  Comanche. 
warriors  debouched  at  a  gallop  from  the  vil- 
lage, and  poured  like  a  torrent  down  the 
sides  of  the  hill,  coming  up  close  to  the  mo- 
tionless travelers,  brandishing  their  weapons, 
and  uttering  their  war-yell. 

The  hunters  waited,  carelessly  leaning  on 
their  guns.  Assuredly,  to  a  man  not  ac- 
quainted with  the  singular  manners  of  the 
prairie,  this  mode  of  reception  would  have 
seemed  overt  hostilities.  But  it  was  not  so ; 
for,  on  coming  within  range  of  the  hunters, 
the  Comanches  began  making  their  horses 
leap  and  curvet,  and  deploj'ing  right  and  left 
formed  a  vast  circle,  inclosing  the  two  men. 

Then  a  horseman  quitted  the  group,  dis- 
mounted, and  rapidly  approached  the  new- 
comers :  the  latter  hastened  to  meet  him. 
All  three  had  their  arms  extended  with  the 
palm  forward  in  sign  of  peace.  The  Indian 
who  thus  advanced  to  meet  the  hunters  was 
Unicorn,  the  great  chief  of  the  Comanches. 

As  a  distinctive  sign  of  his  race,  his  skin 
was  of  a  red  tinge,  brighter  than  the  palest 
new  copper.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty  at  the 
most,  with  masculine  and  expressive  fea- 
tures ;  his  face  possessed  a  remarkable  in- 
telligence, and  was  stamped  with  that  natu- 
ral majesty  found  among  the  savage  children 
of  the  prairie ;  he  was  tall  and  well-built ; 
and  his  muscular  limbs  evidenced  a  vigor 
and  suppleness  against  which  few  men  would 
have  contended  with  advantage. 

He  was  completely  painted  and  armed  for 
war:  his  black  hair  was  drawn  up  on  his 
head  in  the  form  of  a  casque,  and  fell  down 
his  back  like  a  mane  ;  a  profusion  of  wam- 
pum collars,  claws  of  grizzly  bear,  and  buf- 
falo-teeth adorned  his  breast,  on  which  was 
painted  with  rare  dexterity  a  blue  tortoise, 
the  distinctive  sign  of  the  tribe  to  which  he 
belonged,  and  of  the  size  of  a  hand. 

The  rest  of  his  costume  was  composed  of 
the  mitasses,  fastened  round  the  hips  by  a 
leathern  belt,  and  descending  to  the  ankles; 
a  deer-skin  shirt,  with  long  hanging  sleeves, 
the  seams  of  which,  like  those  of  the  mi- 
tasse,  were  fringed  with  leather  strips  and 
leathers ;  a  wide  cloak,  of  the  hide  of  a  fe- 
male buffalo,  was  fastened  across  h is  shoul- 
ders with  a  buckle  of  pure  gold,  and  fell 
down  to  the  ground ;  on  his  feet  he  had  ele- 
gant moccasins  of  different  colors,  embroi- 
dered with  beads  and  porcupine-quills,  from 
the  heels  of  which  trailed  several  wolf-tails  ; 
alight  round  shield,  covered  with  buffalo- 
hide,  and  decorated  with  human  scalps, 
hung  on  his  left  side  by  his  panther-skin 
quiver  full  of  arrows.  His  weapons  were 
those  of  the  Comanche  Indians  ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  scalping-knife,  the  tomahawk,  a 
bow,  and  an  American  ritle ;  but  a  long 
whip,  the  handle  of  which,  painted  red,  was 
adorned  with  scalps,  indicated  his  rank  as 
cbief. 


When  the  three  men  were  close  together 
they  saluted  each  other  by  raising  their 
hands  to  their  foreheads;  then  Valentine 
and  Unicorn  crossed  their  arms  by  passing 
the  right  hand  over  the  left  shoulder,  and 
bowing  their  heads  at  the  same  time,  kissed 
each  other's  mouth  after  the  prairie  fashion. 
Unicorn  then  saluted  Curumilla  in  the  same 
way ;  and  this  preliminary  ceremony  termi- 
nated, the  Comauche  chief  took  the  word. 

"My  brothers  are  welcome  at  the  village 
of  my  tribe,"  he  said.  "I  was  expecting 
them  impatiently.  I  had  begged  the  Chief 
of  Prayer  of  the  pale-faces  to  invite  them  in 
my  name." 

"  He  performed  his  promise  last  night.  I 
thank  my  brother  for  having  thought  of 
me." 

"  The  two  stranger  great  hunters  are 
friends  of  Unicorn.  His  heart  was  sad  not 
to  see  them  near  him  for  the  buffalo-hunt 
his  young  people  are  prepa,rmg." 

'SjElere  we  are !  We  set  out  this  morning 
at  sunrise." 

"My  brothers  will  follow  me,  and  rest  at 
the  council-lire." 

The  hunters  bowed  an  assent.  Each  re- 
ceived a  horse,  and  at  a  signal  from  Unicorn, 
who  had  placed  himself  between  them,  the 
troop  started  at  a  gallop,  and  returned  to 
the  village,  which  it  entered  to  the  deafen- 
ing sounds  of  drums,  chikikouh,  shouts  of 
joy  from  the  women  and  children  who  sa- 
luted their  return,  and  the  furious  barking 
of  the  dogs.  When  the  chiefs  were  seated 
round  the  council-fire  the  pipe  was  lit, 
and  ceremoniously  presented  to  the  two 
strangers,  who  smoked  in  silence  for  some 
minutes.  When  the  pipe  had  gone  the 
round  several  times,  Unicorn  addressed  Val- 
entine : 

"  Koutonepi  is  a  great  hunter,"  he  said  to 
him  ;  "  he  has  often  followed  the  buffalo  on 
the  plains  of  the  Dirty  River.  The  chief 
will  tell  him  the  preparations  he  has  made, 
that  the  hunter  may  give  his  opinion." 

"It  is  needless,  chief,"  Valentine  replied. 
"  The  buffalo  is  the  friend  of  the  red-skins : 
the  Comanches  know  all  its  stratagems.  I 
should  like  to  ask  a  question  of  my  broth- 
er." 

"The  hunter  can  speak:  my  ears  are 
open." 

"  How  long  will  the  chief  remain  on  the 
hunting-grounds  with  his  young  men  ?" 

"  About  a  week.  The  buffaloes  are  sus- 
picious :  my  young  men  are  surrounding 
them,  but  they  can  not  drive  them  in  out- 
direction  before  four  or  five  days." 

Valentine  gave  a  start  of  joy. 

"Good!"  lie  said.  "Is  my  brother  sure 
of  it?" 

"  Ver\"  sure." 

"  How  many  warriors  have  remained  with 
the  chief!" 

"  About  four  hundred  :  the  rest  are  scat- 
tered over  the  plain  to  announce  the  ap- 
proach of  the  buffaloes." 


HARK  /.  WHOOP  !  HALLOO  ! 


"  Good  !  If  my  brother  likes  I  will  pro- 
cure him  a  fine  hunt  within  three  days." 

"Ah!"  the  chief  exclaimed,  "then  my 
brother  has  started  some  game  ?" 

''Oh!"  Valentine  answered  with  a. laugh, 
"let  ray  brother  trust  to  me,  and  I  promise 
him  rich  spoils." 

"  Good  !  Of  what  game  does  my  brother 
speak?" 

"  Of  gdchitpinoB*  In  two  days  they  will 
meet  iu  large  numbers  not  far  from  here." 

"Wan!"  said  the  Comauche,  whose  eyes 
sparkled  at  this  news,  "  my  young  men  will 
hunt  them.  My  brother  must  explain." 

Valentine  shook  his  head. 

"  My  words  are  for  the  ears  of  a  chief,"  he 
said. 

Without  replying,  Unicorn  made  a  signal : 
the  Indians  rose  silently,  and  left  the  tent. 
Curumilla  and  Unicorn  alone  remained  near 
the  h're.  Valentine  then  explained  to  the 
Comauche,  in  its  fullest  details,  the  plan  he 
had  conceived,  in  the  execution  of  which  the 
•aid  of  the  Indians  was  indispensable  to  him. 
Unicorn  listened  attentively  without  inter- 
rupting. When  Valentine  had  ended : 
.  "  What  does  my  brother  think  ?"  the  lat- 
ter asked,  fixing  a  scrutinizing  glance  on 
the  impassive  countenance  of  the  chief. 

"  Wah !"  the  other  replied,  "  the  pale-face 
is  verv  crafty.  Unicorn  will  do  what  he  de- 
sires." 

This  assurance  filled  Valentine's  heart 
with  joy. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  HUXT  OF  THE  WILD  HORSES. 

Dox  MIGUEL  ZARATE  and  his  two  friends 
did  not  reach  the  hacienda  till  late.  They 
were  received  in  the  porch  by  Don  Pablo 
and  Donna  Clara,  who  manifested  great  joy 
at  the  sight  of  the  French  missionary,  for 
whom  they  felt  a  sincere  esteem  and  great 
friendship.  Spite  of  all  his  care,  Fray  Am- 
brosio  had  always  seen  his  advances  repelled 
by  the  young  people,  in  whom  he  instinct- 
ively inspired  that  fear  mingled  with  disgust 
that  is  experienced  at  the  sight  of  a  reptile. 
"ouna  Clara,  who  was  very  pious,  carried 

his  repulsion  to  such  a  pitch  that  she  only 

confessed    her  faults  and  approached  the 

holy  table  when  Father  Seraphiu  came  to 

spend  a  few  days  at  the  hacienda. 

Fray  Ambrosio  was  too  adroit  to  appear 

3  notice  the  effect  his  presence  produced 
on  the  children  :  he  feigned  to  attribute  to 
timidity  and  indifference  on  religous  mat- 
ters what  was  in  reality  a  strongly-expressed 
loathing  for  himself  personally.  But  in  his 
heart  a  dull  hatred  fermented  against  the 
two  young  folk,  and  especially  against  the 
missionary,  whom  he  had  several  times  al- 
ready attempted  to  destroy  by  well-laid 
snares.  Father  Seraphin  had  always  escap- 
*  Wearers  of  shoes— a  name  ^iveii  by  the  In- 
!  Spaniards  at  the  conquest. 


snares,    ±>a 

*  Wearers 

diane  to  the 


ed  them  by  a  providential  chance :  but  ia 
spite  of  the  chaplain's  obsequious  advances, 
and  the  offers  of  service  he  did  not  fail  to 
overwhelm  him  with  each  time  they  met, 
the  missionary  had  thoroughly  read  the 
Mexican  monk.  He  had  guessed  what  fear- 
ful corruption  was  hidden  beneath  his  ap- 
parent simplicity  and  feigned  piety;  and 
while  keeping  to  himself  the  certainty  lie 
had  acquired,  he  remained  on  his  guard, 
and  carefully  watched  this  man,  whom  he 
suspected  of  incessantly  planning  some  dark 
treachery  against  him. 

Don  Miguel  left  his  children  with  the  mis- 
sionary, who  immediately  took  possession 
of  him  and  dragged  him  away,  lavishing  on 
him  every  possible  attention.  The  hacien- 
dero  retired  to  his  study  with  General  Iba- 
nez,  when  the  two  men  drew  up  a  list  of  the 
persons  they  intended  to  invite— that  is  to 
say,  the  persons  Valentine  proposed  to  get 
out  of  the  way,  though  they  were  innocent 
of  his  scheme.  The  General  then  mounted 
his  horse,  and  rode  off  to  deliver  the  invita- 
tions. For  his  part  Don  Miguel  sent  off  a 
dozen  peons  and  vaqueros  in  search  of  the 
wild  horses,  and  to  drive  them  gradually  to- 
ward the  spot^tiosen  for  the  hunt. 

General  Ibanez  succeeded  perfectly:  the 
invitations  were  gladly  accepted,  and  the 
next  evening  the  guests  began  arriving, 
Don  Miguel  receiving  them  with  marks  of 
the  most  profound  respect  and  lavish  hospi- 
tality. 

The  General  Isturitz,  Governor  of  Paso, 
Don  Luciano  Perez,  and  seven  or  eight  per- 
sons of  inferior  rank,  soon  arrived  at  the 
hacienda.  At  sunrise  a  numerous  party, 
composed  of  forty  persons,  proceeded,  ac- 
companied by  a  crowd  of  well-mounted  pe- 
ons, toward  the  meet.  This  was  a  vast  plain 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rio  del  Norte,  where 
the  wild  horses  were  accustomed  to  graze 
at  this  season.  The  caravan  produced  the 
most  singular  and  picturesque  effect  with 
the  brilliant  costumes  of  the  persons  who 
composed  it,  and  their  horses  glittering  with 
gold  and  silver.  Starting  at  about  four  A.  M. 
from  the  Farm,  four  hours  later  they  reached 
a  clump  of  trees,  beneath  whose  shade  tents 
had  been  raised  and  tables  laid  by  Don  Mig- 
uel's orders,  so  that  they  might  breakfast 
before  the  hunt. 

The  riders,  who  had  been  journeying  for 
four  hours,  exposed  to  the  rays  of  the"  sun 
and  the  dust,  uttered  a  shout  of  joy  at  the 
sight  of  the  tents.  Each  dismounted;  the 
ladies  were  invited  to  do  the  same,  among 
them  being  the  wife  of  General  Isturitz,  and 
Donna  Clara,  and  they  gayly  sat  down  around 
the  tables. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  breakfast  Don  Pa- 
blo arrived,  who  had  gone  the  evening  pre- 
viously to  join  the  vaqueros.  He  announc- 
ed that  the  horses  had  been  started,  that  a 
large  drove  was  now  crossing  the  Plain  of 
the  Coyotes,  watched  by  the  vaqueros,  and 
that  they  must  make  haste  if  they  wished 


43 


TEE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


to  have  good!  sport.  This  news  augmented 
the  ardor  of  the  hunters.  The  ladies  were 
left  in  camp  under  the  guard  of  a  dozen 
well-armed  peons,  and  the  whole  party 
rushed  at  a  gallop  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  Don  Pablo. 

The  Plain  of  the  Coyotes  extended  for  an 
enormous  distance  along  the  banks  of  the 
river.  Here  aud  there  rose  wooded  hills, 
which  varied  the  landscape  that  was  render- 
ed monotonous  by  the  tall  grass,  in  which  the 
riders  disappeared  up  to  their  waists.  When 
the  hunting-party  reached  the  skirt  of  the 
plain,  Don  Miguel  ordered  a  halt,  that  they 
might  hold  a  council,  and  hear  the  report 
of  uie  leader  of  the  vaqueros. 

The  race  of  wild  horses  that  nowadays, 
people  the  deserts  of  North  America,  and 
especially  of  Mexico,  is  descended  from  Cor- 
tez'  cavalry.  Hence  it  is  a  pure  breed,  for 
at  the  period  of  the  Spanish  conquest  only 
Arab  horses  were  employed.  These  horses 
have  multiplied  in  really  an  extraordinary 
manner.  It  is  not  rare  to  meet  with  mana- 
das  of  twenty  and  even  thirty  thousand 
head.  They  are  small,  but  gifted  with  an 
energy  and  vigor  of  which  it  is  impossible  to 
form  a  fair  idea  without  having  seen  them. 
They  accomplish  without  fatigue  journeys 
of  prodigious  length.  Their  coat  is  the  same 
as  that  of  other  horses,  save  that  during 
winter  it  grows  very  long,  and  becomes  friz- 
zy like  the  wool  of  sheep.  In  spring  this 
species  of  fur  falls  of.  The  horses  may  be 
easily  trained.  Generally,  so  soon  as  they 
iind  themselves  caught,  they  easily  submit 
to  the  saddle. 

The  leader  made  his  report.  A  drove  of 
about  ten  thousand  head  was  two  leagues, 
off  on  the  plain,  quietly  grazing  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  few  elks  and  buffaloes.  The  hunt- 
ers scaled  a  hill,  from  the  top  of  which 
they  easily  saw  on  the  horizon  a  countless 
mob  of  animals,  grouped  in  the  most  pic- 
turesque way,  aud  apparently  not  at  all  sus- 
pecting the  danger  that  threatened  them. 

After  the  vaquero's  report,  Don  Miguel 
and  his  friends  held  a  council,  and  this  is  the 
resolution  they  came  to.  They  formed 
what  is  called  the  grand  circle  of  the  wild 
horses;  that  is  to  say,  the  most  skillful  riders 
were  echeloned  in  every  direction  at  a  cer- 
tain distance  from  each  other,  so  as  to  form 
an  immense  circle.  The  wild  horses  are  ex- 
tremely suspicious :  their  instinct  is  so  subtle 
that  the  slightest  breath  of  wind  is  sufficient 
to  carry  to  them  the  smell  of  their  enemies, 
and  make  them  set  off  at  headlong  speed. 
Hence  it  is  necessary  to  act  with  the  great- 
est prudence,  and  use  many  precautions,  if 
a  surprise  is  desired. 

When  all  the  preparations  were  made  the 
hunters  dismounted,  and  dragging  their 
horses  after  them,  glided  through  "the  tall 
grass  so  as  to  contract  the  circle.  This  ma- 
neuver had  gone  on  for  some  time,  and  they 
had  sensibly  drawn  nearer,  when  the  drove 
began  to  display  some  signs  of  restlessness. 


The  horses,  which  had  hitherto  grazed  calm- 
ly, raised  their  heads,  pricked  their  ears,  and 
neighed  as  they  inhaled  the  air.  Suddenly 
they  collected,  formed  a  compact  band,  and 
started  at  a  trot  in  the  direction  of  some  cot- 
tonwood  trees  which  stood  on  the  banks  of 
the  river.  The  hunt  was  about  to  commence. 

At  a  signal  from  Don  Miguel  six  well- 
mounted  vaqueros  rushed  at  full  speed  ahead 
of  the  drove,  making  their  lassoes  whistle 
round  their  heads.  The  horses,  startled  by 
the  apparition  of  the  riders,  turned  back 
hastily,  uttering  snorts  of  terror,  and  fled 
in  another  direction.  But  each  time  they 
tried  to  force  the  circle,  horsemen  rode  into 
the  midst  of  them,  and  compelled  them  to 
turn  back. 

It  is  necessary  to  have  been  present  at 
such  a  chase,  to  have  seen  this  hunt  on  the 
prairies,  to  form  an  idea  of  the  magnificent 
sight  offered  by  all  these  noble  brutes,  their 
eyes  afire,  their  mouths  foaming,  their  heads 
haughtily  thrown  up,  and  their  manes  flut- 
tering in  the  wind,  as  they  bounded  and 
galloped  in  the  fatal  circle  the  hunters  had 
formed  round  them.  There  is  in  such  a 
sight  something  intoxicating,  which  carries 
away  the  most  phlegmatic,  and  renders  them 
mad  with  enthusiasm  and  pleasure. 

When  this  maneuver  had  lasted  long 
enough,  and  the  horses  began  tc  grow  blind- 
ed with  terror,  at  a  signal  given  by  Don 
Miguel  the  circle  was  broken  at  a  certain 
spot.  The  horses  rushed,  with  a  sound  like 
thunder,  toward  this  issue  which  opened 
before  them,  overturning  with  their  chests 
every  thing  that  barred  their  progress.  But 
it  was  this  the  hunters  expected.  The 
liorses,  in  their  mad  race,  galloped  on  with- 
out dreaming  that  the  road  they  followed 
grew  gradually  narrower  in  front  of  them, 
and  terminated  in  inevitable  captivity. 

Let  us  explain  this  termination  of  the 
hunt.  The  manada  had  been  cleverly  guid- 
ed by  the  hunters  toward  the  entrance  of 
a  canon,  or  ravine,  which  ran  between  two 
rather  lofty  hills.  At  the  end  of  this  ra- 
vine the  vaqueros  had  formed,  with  stakes 
.fifteen  feet  long,  planted  in  the  ground,  and 
firmly  fastened  together  with  cords  of  twist- 
ed bark,  an  immense  corral  or  inclosure,  in- 
to which  the  horses  rushed  without  seeing 
it.  In  less  tJhan  no  time  the  corral  was  full ; 
then  the  hunters  went  to  meet  the  manada, 
which  they  cut  off  at  the  risk  of  their  lives, 
while  the  others  closed  the  entrance  of  the 
corral.  More  than  fifteen  hundred  magnifi- 
cent wild  horses  were  thus  captured  at  one 
stroke. 

The  noble  animals  rushed  with  snort*  of 
fury  at  the  walls  of  the  inclosure,  frying  to 
tear  up  the  stakes  with  their  teeth  and  dash- 
ing madly  against  them.  At  length  they  re- 
cognized the  futility  of  their  efforts,  lay 
down,  and  remained  motionless.  In  the 
mean  while  a  tremendous  struggle  was  go- 
ing on  in  the  ravine  between  the  hunters 
and  the  rest  of  the  inanada.  The  horses 


A  SAKE-BACK  RIDE. 


confined  in  this  narrow  space  made  extra- 
ordinary efforts  to  open  a  passage  and  fly 
anew.  They  neighed,  stamped,  and  flew  at 
every  thing  that  came  within  tl\eir  reach. 
AJ,  length  they  succeeded  in  regaining  their 
first  direction,  and  rushed  into  the  plain 
-with  the  velocity  of  an  avalanche.  Several 
vaqueros  had  been  dismounted  and  tramp- 
led on  by  the  horses,  and  two  of  them  had 
received  such  injuries  that  they  were  car- 
ried off  the  ground  in  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility. 

With  all  the  impetuosity  of  youth,  Don 
Pablo  had  rushed  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
inanada.  Suddenly  his  horse  received  a  kick 
which  broke  its  off  fore  leg,  and  it  fell  to  the 
ground,  dragging  its  rider  with  it.  The  hunt- 
ers uttered  a  cry  of  terror  and  agony.  lu 
the  midst  of  this  band  of  maddened  horses 
the  young  man  was  lost,  for  he  must  be 
trampled  to  death  under  their  hoofs.  But 
he  rose  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  and 
quick  as  thought  seizing  the  mane  of  the 
nearest  horse,  he  leaped  on  its  back,  and 
held  on  by  his  knees.  The  horses  were  so 
pressed  against  one  another  that  any  other 
position  was  impossible.  Then  a  strange 
thing  occurred — an  extraordinary  struggle 
between  the  horse  and  its  rider.  The  noble 
beast,  furious  at  feeling  its  back  dishonored 
by  the  weight  it  bore,  bounded,  reared,  rush- 
ed forward;  but  all  was  useless,  for  Don 
Pablo  adhered  firmly. 

So  long  as  it  was  in  the  ravine,  the  horse, 
impeded  by  its  comrades,  could  not  do  all 
it  might  have  wished  to  get  rid  of  the  bur- 
den it  bore ;  but  so  soon  as  it  found  itself 
on  the  plain  it  threw  up  its  head,  made 
several  leaps  on  one  side,  and  then  started 
forward  at  a  speed  which  took  away  the 
young  man's  breath. 

Don  Pablo  held  on  firmly  by  digging  his 
knees  into  the  pan  ting  sides  of  his  steed:  he 
unfastened  his  cravat,  and  prepared  to  play 
the  last  scene  in  this  drama,,  which  threaten- 
ed to  terminate  in  a  tragic  way  for  him.  The 
horse  had  changed  its  tactics  :  it  was  racing 
in  a  straight  line  to  the  river,  resolved  to 
drown  itself  with  its  rider  sooner  than  sub- 
mit. The  hunters  followed  with  an  interest 
mingled  with  terror  the  moving  interludes 
of  this  mad  race,  when  suddenly  the  horse 
changed  its  plans  again,  reared,  and  tried  to 
fall  back  with  its  rider.  The  hunters  utter- 
ed a  shout  of  agony.  Don  Pablo  clung  con- 
vulsively to  the  animal's  neck,  and,  at  the 
moment  it  was  falling  back,  he  threw  his 
cravat  over  its  eyes  with  extraordinary 
skill. 

The  horse,  suddenly  blinded,  fell  back 
again  on  its  feet,  and  stood  trembling  with 
terror.  Then  the  young  man  dismounted, 
put  his  face  to  the  horse  s  head,  and  breath- 
ed into  its  nostrils,  while  gently  scratching 
its  forehead.  This  operation  lasted  ten 
minutes  at  the  most,  the  horse  panting  and 
snorting,  but  not  daring  to  leave  the  spot. 
The  Mexican  again  leaped  on  the  horse's 


back,  and  removed  the  bandage:  it  remained 
stunned— Don  Pablo  had  tamed  it.  Every- 
body rushed  toward  the  young  man,  who 
smiled  proudly,  in  order  to  compliment  him 
on  his  splendid  victory.  He  dismounted, 
gave  his  horse  to  a  vaquero,  who  immediate- 
ly passed  a  bridle  round  its  neck,  and  then 
walked  toward  his  father,  who  embraced 
him  tenderly.  For  more  than  an  hour  Don 
Miguel  had  despaired  of  his  son's  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   SURPRISE. 

So  soon  as  the  emotion  caused  by  Don 
Pablo's  prowess  was  calmed  they  began 
thinking  about  returning.  The  sun  was  de- 
scending in  the  horizon  :  the  whole  day  had 
"been  spent  with  the  exciting  incidents  of 
the  chase.  The  Hacienda  de  la  Noria  was 
nearly  ten  leagues  distant :  it  was,  therefore, 
urgent  to  start  as  speedily  as  possible,  unless 
the  party  wished  to  run  the  risk  of  bivou- 
acking in  the  open  air. 

The  men  would  easily  have  put  up  with 
this  slight  annoyance,  which,  in  a  climate 
like  that  of  New  Mexico,  and  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  has  nothing  painful  about  it ; 
but  thay^  had  ladies  with  them.  Left  one 
or  two  leagues  in  the  rear,  they  must  feel 
alarmed  in  the  absence  of  the  hunters — an 
absence  which,  as  so  frequently  happens 
when  out  hunting,  had  been  protracted  far 
beyond  all  expectations. 

Don  Miguel  gave  the  vaqueros  orders  to 
brand  the  captured  horses  with  his  cipher ; 
and  the  whole  party  then  returned,  la'ugh- 
ing  and  singing,  iu  the  direction  of  the  tents 
where  the  ladies  had  been  left.  The  vaqueros 
who  had  served  as  beaters  during  the  day  re- 
mained behind  to  guard  the  horses. 

In  these  countries,  where  there  is  scarce 
any  twilight,  night  succeeds  the  day  almost 
without  transition.  As  soon  as  the  sun  had 
set,  the  hunters  found  themselves  in  com- 
plete dai'kness :  for,  as  the  sun  descended  on 
the  horizon,  the  shade  invaded  the  sky  in 
equal  proportions,  and,  at  the  moment  when 
the  day-planet  disappeared,  the  night  was 
complete.  The  desert,  hitherto  silent, 
seemed  to  wake  up  all  at  once  :  the  birds, 
stupefied  by  the  heat,  commenced  a  formid- 
able concert,  in  which  joined  at  intervals, 
from  the  inaccessible  depths  of  the  forest, 
the  snapping  of  the  carcajous,  and  the  bark- 
ing of  the  coyotes  mingled  with  the  hoarse 
howling  of  the  wild  beasts  that  had  left  their 
dens  to  come  down  and  drink  in  the  river. 

Then  gradually  the  cries,  the  songs,  and 
the  howling  ceased,  and  nothing  was  audible 
save  the  hunters'  horses  on  the  pebbles  of 
the  road.  A  solemn  silence  seemed  to  brood 
over  this  abrupt  and  primitive  scenery.  »At 
intervals  the  green  tufts  of  the  trees  and  the 
tall  grass  bowed  slowly  with  a  prolonged 
rustling  of  leaves  and  branches,  as  if  a  mys  • 


50 


TSLJS  T 


terious  breath  passed  over  th'jnj.  axC  com- 
pelled them  to  bend  their  heads  There  was 
something  at  once  striking  and  terrible  in 
the  imposing  appearance  offered  by  the 
prairie  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  beneath 
thisfiky  studded  with  brilliant  stars,  which 
sparkled  like  emeralds,  in  the  presence  of 
this  sublime  immensity,  which  only  suffer- 
ed one  voice  to  be  heard — that  of  Deity. 

The  young  and  enthusiastic  man  to  whom 
it  is  given  to  be  present  at  such  a  specta- 
cle feels  a  thrill  run  over  all  his  body:  be 
experiences  an  undefinable  feeling  of  hap- 
piness and  extraordinary  pleasure  on  look- 
ing round  him  at  the  desert,  whose  unex- 
plored depths  conceal  from  him  so  many  se- 
crets, and  display  to  him  Divine  Majesty  in 
all  its  grandeur  and  omnipotence. 

The  hunters,  so  gay  and  talkative  at  the 
start,  had  yielded  to  this  omnipotent  influ- 
ence of  the  desert,  and  advanced  rapidly 
and  silently,  only  exchanging  a  few  syllables 
at  lengthened  intervals.  The  profoundest 
calm  still  continued  to  reign  over  the  des- 
ert ;  and  while,  owing  to  the  astonishing 
transparency  of  the  atmosphere,  the  eye 
could  embrace  an  enormous  horizon, 
nothing  suspicious  was  visible. 

The  tire-flies  buzzed  carelessly  round  the 
top  of  the  grass,  and  the  flickering  fires 
burning  before  the  tents  to  which  the  hunt- 
ers were  bound  could  be  already  seen  about 
half  a  league  ahead.  At  a  signal  from  Don 
Miguel  the  party,  which  had,  up  to  the 
present,  only  trotted,  set  out  at  a  long  can- 
ter; for  each  felt  anxious  to  leave  a  scene 
which,  in  the  darkness,  had  assumed  a  sin- 
ister aspect. 

They  thus  arrived  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  the  fires,  whose  ruddy  glow  was  reflect- 
ed on  the  distant  trees,  when  suddenly  a 
fearful  yell  crossed  the  air,  and  from  behind 
every  bush  out  started  an  Indian  horseman 
brandishing  his  weapons,  and  making  his 
horse  curvet  round  the  white  men,  while  ut- 
tering the  war-cry.  The  Mexicans,  taken 
unawares,  were  surrounded  ere  they  had 
sufficiently  recovered  from  their  stupor  to 
think  about  employing  their  weapons.  At 
a  glance  Don  Miguel  judged  the  position: 
it  was  a  critical  one.  The  hunters  were  at 
the  most  but  twenty ;  the  number  of  Co- 
manche  warriors  surrounding  them  was  at 
least  three  hundred. 

The  Comanches  and  Apaches  are  the 
most  implacable  foes  of  the  white  race.  In 
their  periodical  invasions  of  the  frontiers 
they  hardly  ever  make  any  prisoners  :  they 
mercilessly  kill  all  who  fall  into  their  hands. 
Still  the  Mexicans  rallied.  Certain  of  the 
fate  that  awaited  them,  they  were  resolved 
to  sell  their  lives  dearly.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment of  supreme  expectation  before  the 
commencement  of  the  deadly  combat,  when 
suddenly  an  Indian  galloped  out  of  the 
ranks  of  the  warriors,  and  rode  within  three 
paces  of  the  little  band.  On  arriving  there 
he  stopped,  and  waved  his  buffalo-robe  in 


sign  of  peace.  The  Governor  prepared  to 
speak. 

"  Let  me  carry  on  the  negotiations,"  Don 
Miguel  said.  "  I  know  the  Indians  better 
than  you  «do,  and  perhaps  I  shall  succeed  in 
getting  out  of  this  awkward  position."  • 

"Do  so,"  the  Governor  answered. 

General  Ibanez  was  the  only  who  had  re- 
mained calm  and  impassive  since  the  sur- 
prise :  he  did  not  make  a  move  to  seize  his 
weapons ;  on  the  contrary,  he  crossed  his 
arms  carelessly  on  his  chest,  and  took  a 
mocking  glance  at  his  comrades,  as  he  hum- 
med a  song.  Don  Pablo  had  placed  himself 
by  his  father's  side,  ready  to  defend  him  at 
the  peril  of  his  life.'  The  Indian  chief  took 
the  word. 

"Let  the  pale-faces  listen,"  he  said;  "an 
Indian  sachem  is  about  to  speak." 

"We  have  no  time  to  spare  in  listening 
to  the  insidious  words  which  you  areprepau- 
ing  to  say  to  us,"  Don  Miguel  replied  in  a 
haughty  voice.  "  Withdraw,  and  do  not 
obstinately  bar  our  passage,  or  there  will  be 
blood  spilt." 

u  The  pale-faces  will  have  brought  it  on 
themselves,"  the  Comanche  answered  in  a 
gentle  voice.  "  The  Indians  mean  no  harm 
to  the  pale  warriors." 

"Why  then  this  sudden  attack?  The 
chief  is  mad.  We  do  not  let  ourselves  be  so 
easily  deceived  as  he  seems  to  suppose  :  we 
know  very  well  that  he  wants  our  scalps." 

"No;  Unicorn  wishes  to  make  a  bargain 
with  the  pale-faces." 

"Come,  chief,  explain  yourself:  perhaps 
your  intentions  are  as  you  describe  them.  I 
do  not  wish  to  reproach  myself  with  having 
refused  to  listen  to  you." 

The  Indian  smiled. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "The  great  white 
chief  is  becoming  reasonable.  Let  him  lis- 
ten, then,  to  the  words  Unicorn  will  pro- 
nounce." 

"Go  on,  chief;  my  comrades  and  myself 
are  listening." 

"  The  pale-faces  are  thieving  dogs,"  the 
chief  said  in  a  rough  voice ;  "  they  carry  on 
a  continual  war  with  the  red-skins,  and  buy 
their  scalps  as  if  they  were  peltry ;  but  the 
Comanches  are  magnanimous  warriors,  who 
disdain  to  avenge  themselves^.  The  squaws 
of  the  white  men  are  in  their  power :  they 
will  restore  them." 

At  these  words  a  shudder  of  terror  ran 
along  the  ranks  of  the  hunters  ;  their  cour- 
age failed  them  ;  they  had  only  one  desire 
left — that  of  saving  those  who  had  so  wretch- 
edly fallen  into  the  hands  of  these  blood- 
thirsty men. 

"  On  what  conditions  vrill  the  Comanches 
restore  their  prisoners  ?"  Don  Miguel  asked, 
whose  heart  was  contracted  at  the  thought 
of  his  daughter,  who  was  also  a  prisoner. 
He  secretly  cursed  Valentine,  whose  fatal 
advice  was  the  sole  cause  of  the  frightful 
evil  that  assailed  him  at  this  moment.  . 

"The  pale-faces,'*  the   chief   continued, 


AN  AMBUBCADK 


will  dismount  and  arrange  themselves  in 
a  line.  Unicorn  will  choose  from  his 
enemies  those  whom  he  thinks  proper  to 

irry  off  as  prisoners;,  the  rest  will  be  free, 
md  all  the  women  restored." 

Those  conditions  are  harsh,  chief.     Can 

>u  not  modify  them  ?" 
'A  chief  has  only  one  word.      Do  the 
le-faces  consent  ?" 
1  Let  us  consult  together  for  a  few  mo- 

lents  at  any  rate." 

"  Good !     Let   the  white    men    consult. 

Jiricorn  grants  them  ten  minutes,''  the  chief 
le  answer. 

And  turning  his  horse,  he  went  back  to 

Is  men.    Don  Miguel  then  addressed  his 

iends. 

"  Well,  what  do  yon  think  of  what  has  oc- 

irred?" 

The  Mexicans  were  terrified:  still  they 
were  compelled  to  allow  that  the  conduct 
)f  the  Indians  was  extraordinary,  and  that 

ley  had  never  before  evinced  such  lenity. 
Tow  that   reflection  had  followed  on  the 
irst  feeling  of  excitement,  they  understood 
hat  a  struggle  against  enemies  so  numerous 
was  insensate,  and  could  only  result  in  rcn- 
lering  their  position  worse   than  it  was  be- 
~>re,  and  that  the  chiefs  conditions,  harsh 
as  they  were,  offered  at  least  some  chance 
of  safety  for  a  portion  of  them,  and  the  la- 
dies would  be  saved. 

This  last  and  all-powerful  consideration  de- 
cided them.  Don  Miguel  had  no  occasion 
convince  them  of  the  necessity  of  sub- 
mission. Whatever  struggle  it  cost  them, 
they  dismounted  and  arranged  themselves 
in  line,  as  the  chief  had  demanded,  Don 
Miguel  and  his  son  placing  themselves  at  the 
head. 

Unicorn,  with  that  cool  courage  character- 
istic of  the  Indians,  then  advanced  alone  to- 
ward the  Mexicans,  who  still  had  their 
weapons,  and  who,  impelled  by  their  despair, 
and  at  the  risk  of  being  all  massacred, 
would  have  sacrificed  him  to  their  venge- 
ance. The  chief  had  also  dismounted. 
With  his  hands  crossed  on  his  back,  and 
frowning  brow,  he  now  commenced  his  in- 
spection. 

Many  a  heart  contracted  at  his  approach, 
for  a  question  of  life  and  death  was  being 
decided  for  those  hapless  men :  only  the 
perspective  of  the  atrocious  tortures  which 
menaced  the  ladies  could  have  made  them 
consent  to  this  humiliating  and  degrading 
condition.  The  Unicorn,  however,  was 
generous-:  he  only  selected  eight  of  the 
Mexicans,  and  the  rest  received  permission 
to  mount  their  horses,  and  leave  the  fatul 
circle  that  begirt  them.  Still,  by  a  strange 
accident,  or  premeditation  of  which  the 
reason  escaped  them,  these  eight  prisoners 
— among  whom  were  the  Governor,  General 
Isturitz,  and  the  criminal  judge,  Don  Luci- 
ano Perez — were  the  most  important  per- 
sonages in  the  party,  and  the  members  of 
the  Provincial  Government. 


It  was  not  without  9tfrprise  that  Don  Mig- 
uel observed  this :  the  Comanches,  however, 
faithfully  fulfilled  their  compact,  and  the  la 
dies  were  at  once  set  at  liberty.  They  had 
been  treated  with  the  greatest  respect  by 
the  Indians,  who  had  surprised  their  camp, 
and  seized  them  almost  in  the  same  way  as 
they  had  the  hunters ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
camp  was  invaded  simultaneously  on  all  sides. 
It  was  a  matter  worthy  of  remark  in  an  am- 
buscade that  not  a  drop  of  blood  had  beeo- 
spilt. 

After  the  moments  given  up  to  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  his  daughter  again  safe  and 
sound,  Don  Miguel  resolved  to  make  a  last 
attempt  with  Unicorn  in  favor  of  the  un- 
happy men  who  remained  in  his  hands.  The 
chief  listened  with  deference,  and  let  him 
speak  without  interruption ;  then  he  re- 
plied, with  a  smiie  whose  expression  the 
other  tried  in  vain  to  explain : 

"  My  father  has  Indian  blood  in  his  veins  ; 
the  red-skins  love  him  :  never  will  they  do 
him  an  injury.  Unicorn  would  like  to  re- 
store him  immediately  the  prisoners,  for 
whom  he  cares  yery  little ;  but  that  is  im- 
possible. My  father  himself  would  speedily 
regret  Unicorn's  obedience  to  his  wish;  but, 
in  order  to  prove  to  my  father  how  much 
the  chief  desires  to  do  a  thing  that  will  be 
agreeable  to  him,  the  prisoners  will  not  be 
ill-treated,  and  will  be  let  off  with  a  few 
days'  annoyance.  Unicorn  consents  to  ac- 
cept a  ransom  for  them,  instead  of  making 
them  slaves.  My  father  .can  himself  tell 
them  this  good  news." 

"Thanks,  ohief,"  Don  Miguel  answered. 
"  The  nobility  of  your  character  touches  my 
heart:  I  shall  not  forget  it.  Be  persuaded 
that,  nnder  all  circumstances,  I  shall  be  hap- 
py to  prove  to  you  how  grateful  I  am." 

The  chief  bowed  gracefully  and  withdrew 
in  order  to  give  the  haciendero  liberty  to 
communicate  with  his  companions.  The  lat- 
ter were  seated  sadly  on  the  ground,  gloomy 
and  downcast.  Don  Miguel  repeated  to- 
them  the  conversation  he  had  held  with 
Unicorn,  and  the  promise  he  had  made  with 
respect  to  them.  This  restored  them.  all. 
their  courage ;  and,  with  the  most  affection- 
ate words  and  marks  of  the  liveliest  joy, 
they  thanked  him  for  the  attempt'he  had 
made  in  their  favor. 

In  fact,  thanks  to  the  promise  of  liberating 
them  for  a  ransom  at  the  end  of  a  week,  and 
treating  them  well  during  the  period  of 
their  captivity,  there  was  nothing  so  very 
terrifying  about  the  prospect;  and  it  was 
one  of  those  thousand  annoyances  to  which 
men  are  exposed  by  accident,  but  whose 
proportions  had  been  so  reduced  in  their 
e}res,  that,  with  the  carelessness  which  forms 
the  staple  of  the  national  character,  tliey 
were  the  first  to  laugh  at  their  mishap. 

Don  Miguel,  however,  was  anxious  to  re- 
tire ;  so  he  took  leave  of  his  companions, 
and  rejoined  the  chief.  The  latter  repeated 
bis  assurance  that  the  prisoners  should  be 


62 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


free  within  a  week,  if  they  consented  each 
to  pay  a  ransom  of  one  thousand  piastres, 
which  was  a  trifle.  He  assured  the  hacien- 
dero  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  withdraw  when- 
ever he  pleased,  and  he  should  not  oppose 
his  departure. 

Don  Miguel  did  not  allow  the  invitation 
to  be  repeated.  His  friends  and  himself 
immediately  mounted  their  horses,  together 
with  the  ladies,  who  were  placed  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  detachment;  and  after  taking 
leave  of  Unicorn,  they  dug  their  spurs  into 
their  horses,  and  started  at  a  gallop,  glad 
to  have  got  off  so  cheaply.  The  camp-tires 
were  soon  left  far  behind  them,  and  General 
Ibanez  then  approached  his  friend,  and, 
bending  down  to  his  ear,  whispered  : 

"  Don  Miguel,  can  the  Comanches  be  our 
allies  ?  I  fancy  that  they  have  this  night 
given  a  bold  push  to  the  success  of  our  en- 
terprise." 

This  thought,  like  a  ray  of  light,  had  al- 
ready crossed  the  proprietor's  brain  several 
times. 

"I do  not  know,"  he  said,  with  a  clever 
smile  ;  "but  at  any  rate,  my  dear  General, 
they  are  very  adroit  foes," 

The  little  band  continued  to  advance  rap- 
idly toward  the  hacienda,  which  was  now  no 
great  distance,  and  which  they  hoped  to 
reach  before  sunrise.  The  events  we  hare 
described  had  occurred  in  less  than  an  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  MEETING.- 

"BY  Jove!"  General  Ibanez  said,  "it  must 
be  confessed  that  these  red  devils  have  done 
us  an  immense  service  without  suspecting  it. 
It  might  be  said,  deuce  take  me,  that  they 
acted  under  a  knowledge  of  facts.  This 
Unicorn,  as  the  chief  is  called,  is  a  precious 
man  in  certain  circumstances.  I  am  anxious 
to  cultivate  his  acquaintance,  for  no  one 
knows  what  may  happen.  It  is  often  good 
to  have  so  intelligent  a  friend  as  him  at 
hand." 

"  You  are  ahvays  jesting,  General.  When 
will  you  be  serious  for  once?"  Don  Miguel 
said,  with  a  smile. 

"  What  would  you  have,  my  friend  ?  We 
are  at  this  moment  staking  our  heads  in  a 
desperate  game,  so  let  us  at  any  rate  keep 
our  gaycty.  If  we  are  conquered,  it  will  be 
time  enough  then  to  be  sad,  and  make  bitter 
reflections  about  the  instability  of  human 
affairs." 

"  Yes,  your  philosophy  is  not  without  a 
certain  dose  of  fatalism,  which  renders  it 
more  valuable  to  me.  I  am  happy  to  see 
you  in  this  good  temper,  especially  at  a 
moment  when  we  are  preparing  to  play  out- 
last card." 

"AH  is  not  desperate  yet,  and  I  have  a  se- 
cret foreboding,  on  the  contrary,  that  all 
is  for  the  best.  Our  friend  the  Trail-Hunt- 


er, I  feel  convinced1,  has  something  to  do,  if 
net  all,  with  what  has  happened  to  us." 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ?"  Don  Miguel  asked, 
quickly. 

"I  am  certain  of  it.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  these  Indies  Bravos,  and  the  implaca- 
ble hatred  they  have  vowed  against  us.  The 
war  they  wage  with  us  is  atrocious ;  and  for 
them  to  be  suddenly  changed  from  wolves 
into  lambs  requires  some  powerful  motive  to 
make  them  act  thus.  People  do  not  lay 
aside  in  a  moment  a  hatred  which  has  en- 
dured for  ages.  The  Comanches,  by  the 
choice  they  made,  know  the  importance  of 
the  prisoners  they  have  seized.  How  is  it 
that  they  consent  so  easily  to  give  them  up 
for  a  trifling  ransom  ?  There  is  some  inex- 
plicable mystery  in  all  this." 

"  Which  is  very  easy  to  explain,  though," 
a  laughing  voice  interrupted  from  behind 
the  shrubs. 

The  two  Mexicans  started,  and  checked 
their  horses.  A  man  leaped  from  a  thicket, 
and  suddenly  appeared  in  the  center  of  the 
track  the  little  band  of  hunters  was  follow- 
ing. The  latter,  believing  in  a  fresh  attack 
and  treachery  on  the  part  of  the  Comanches, 
seized  their  weapons. 

"  Stop  !"  Don  Miguel  said,  sharply,  "  the 
man  is  alone.  Let  me  speak  with  him." 

Each  waited  with  his  hand  on  his  weapon. 

"Hold!"  Don  Miguel  continued,  addres- 
sing the  stranger,  who  stood  motionless, 
carelessly  resting  on  his  gun.  "Who  are 
you,  my  master?" 

"  Do  you  not  recognize  me,  Don  Miguel  ? 
and  must  I  really  tell  you  my  name?"  the 
stranger  answered,  with  a  laugh. 

"The  Trail-hunter!" 

"  Himself,"  Valentine  continued.  "  Hang 
it  all !  you  take  a  long  time  to  recognize 
your  friends." 

"  You  will  forgive  us  when  you  know  all 
that  has  happened  to  us,  and  how  much  we 
must  keep  on  pur  guard." 

"  Confound  it !"  Valentine  said,  laughing- 
ly, as  he  regulated  his  pace  by  the  trot  of 
the  horses,  "do you  fancy  you  are  going  to 
tell  me  any  news  ?  Did  you  not  really  sus- 
pect from  what  quarter  the  blow  came?" 

"What!"  Don  Miguel  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise, "  did  you— " 

"Who  else  but  I?  Do  you  think  the 
Spaniards  are  such  friends  of  the  Indians 
that  the  latter  would  treat  them  so  kindly 
when  meeting  them  face  to  face  in  the 
desert?" 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  General  Ibanez  affirmed. 
"I  guessed  it  at  ttie  tirst moment." 

"  Good  heavens !  nothing  was  more  sim- 
ple. Your  position,  through  Red  Cedar's 
treachery,  was  most  critical.  I  wished  to 
give  you  the  time  to  turn  round  by  remov- 
ing, for  a  few  days,  the  obstacles  that  pre- 
vented the  success  of  your  plans.  I  have 
succeeded,  I  fancy." 

"  You  could  not  have  managed  better," 
exclaimed  the  General, 


A  BOLD  S1MOKE. 


"Oh!"  Don  Miguel  said,  with  a  reproach- 
ful accent,  "  why  did  you  hide  it  from  me  ?" 

"  For  a  very  simple  reason,  my  friend.  I 
rished  that  in  these  circumstances  your  will 

id  conscience  should  be  free." 

"But—" 

"  Let  me  finish.  Had  I  told  you  of  my 
plan,  it  is  certain  that  you  would  have  op- 
posed it.  You  are  a  man  of  honor,  Don 
Miguel :  your  heart  is  most  loyal." 

"My  friend—" 

"Answer  me.  Had  I  explained  to  yo» 
the  plan  I  formed,  what  would  you  havt 
done  ?" 

"Well—" 

"  Answer  frankly." 

"I  should  have  refused." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it.  Why  would  you  have 
done  so?  Because  you  would  never  have 
consented  to  violate' the  laws  of  hospitality, 
and  betray  enemies  you  sheltered  beneath 
your  roof,  though  you  knew  all  the  while 
that  these  men,  on  leaving  you,  would  have 
considered  it  their  duty  to  seize  you,  and 
that  they  watched  your  every  movement 
while  sitting  by  your  side,  and  eating  at 
your  table.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"It  is  true:  my  honor  as  a  gentleman 
would  have  revolted.  I  could  not  have  suf- 
fered such  horrible  treachery  to  be  carried 
out  under  my  very  eyes." 

"  There !  you  see  that  I  acted  wisely  in 
saying  nothing  to  you.  In  that  way  your 
honor  is  protected,  your  conscience"  easy, 
and  I  have  iu  the  most  simple  fashion  freed 
you  for  some  days  from  your  enemies." 

"That  is  true:  still—" 

"  What  ?  Have  the  prisoners  to  complain 
of  the  way  in  which  they  have  been  treat- 
ed?" 

"Not  at  all;  on  the  contrary,  the  Comiin- 
ches,  and  Unicorn  in  particular,  treated  them 
most  kindly." 

"  All  is  for  the  best,  then.  You  must  con- 
gratulate yourself  on  the  unexpected  suc- 
cess you  have  achieved,  and  must  now  profit 
by  it  without  delay." 

"  I  intend  to  do  so." 

"  You  must  act  at  once." 

''I  ask  nothing  better.  All  is  ready. 
Our  men  are  warned,  and  they  will  rise  at 
the  first  signal." 

"  It  must  be  given  immediately." 

"  I  only  ask  the  time  to  leave  my  daugh- 
ter at  home;  then,  accompanied  by  my 
friends,  I  will  march  on  Paso,  while  General 
Ibanez,  at  the  head  of  a  second  band,  seizes 
Santa  Fe\" 

"The  plan  is  well  conceived.  Can  you 
count  on  the  persons  who  follow  you?"  " 

"Yes;  they  arc  all  my  relatives  or 
friends." 

"  All  for  the  best.  Let  us  not  go  further. 
We  are  here  at  the  place  where  the  roads 

rrt:  let  your  horses  breathe  awhile,  and 
will  tell  you  a  plan  I  have   formed,  and 
which,  I  think,  will  please  you." 
The  small  party  halted     The  horsemen 


dismounted,  and  lay  down  on  the  grass.  As 
all  knew  of  the  conspiracy  formed  by  Don 
Miguel,  and  were  his  accomplices  in  differ- 
ent degrees,  this  halt  did  not  surprise  them, 
for  they  suspected  that  the  moment  for  ac- 
tion was  not  far  off,  and  that  their  chief 
doubtless  wished  to  take  his  final  measures 
before  throwing  off  the  mask,  and  proclaim- 
ing the  independence  of  New  Mexico.  On 
inviting  them  to  hunt  the  wild  horses,  Don 
Miguel  had  not  concealed  from  them  Red 
Cedar's  treachery,  and  the  necessity  in 
which  he  found  himself  of  dealing  a  great 
blow  if  he  did  not  wish  all  to  be  hopelessly 
lost. 

Valentine  led  the  haciendero  and  the  Gen- 
eral a  short  distance  apart.  When  they  wero 
put  of  ear-shot  the  hunter  carefully  exam- 
ined the  neighborhood ;  then  within  a  few 
minutes  rejoined  his  friends,  whom  his  way 
of  acting  considerably  perplexed. 

"Friends,"  he  said  to  them,  "what  do 
you  intend  doing  ?  In  your  position  min- 
utes are  ages.  Are  you  ready  to  make  your 
pronunciamento  ?" 

"  Yes,"  they  answered. 

"  This  is  what  I  propose.  You,  Don  Mig- 
uel, will  proceed  direct  on  Paso.  At  about 
half  a  league  from  that  town  you  will  find 
Curumilla,  with  twenty  of  the  best  rifles  on 
the  frontier.  These  men,  in  whom  you 
can  trust,  are  Canadian  and  Indian  hunters 
devoted  tome.  They  will  form  the  nucleus 
of  a  band  sufficient  for  you  to  seize  on  Paso 
without  striking  a  blow,  as  it  is  only  de- 
fended by  a  garrison  of  forty  soldiers.  Does 
that  plan  suit  you  ? 

"Yes;  I  will  set  about  it  at  once.  But 
my  daughter?" 

"I  will  take  charge  of  her.  You  will  al- 
so leave  me  your  son,  and  I  will  convey  them 
both  to  the  hacienda.  As  for  the  other  la- 
dies, on  reaching  the  town  they  will  merely 
go  to  their  homes,  which,  I  fancy,  presents 
no  difficulty." 

"None." 

"  Good !    Then  that  is  settled  ?" 

"Perfectly." 

"  As  for  you,  General,  your  men  have  eche- 
loned by  my  care  iu  parties  of  ten  and 
twenty  along  the  Santa  F6  road,  up  to  two 
leagues  of  the  city,  so  that  you  will  only 
have  to  pick  them  up.  In  this  way  you  will 
find  yourself,  within  three  hours,  at  the 
head  of  five  hundred  resolute  and  well-arm- 
ed men." 

"  Why,  yalentine,  my  friend,"  the  General 
said,  laughingly,  "  do  you  know  there  is  the 
stuff  in  you  to  make  a  partisan  chief,  and 
that  I  am  almost  jealous  of  you  ?" 

"  Oh  !  you  would  be  wrong,  General :  1 
assure  you  I  am  most  disinterested  in  thin 
affair." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  I  know  it:  you  are  a 
free  desert  hunter,  caring  very  little  for  our 
paltry  schemes." 

"That  is  true  ;  but  I  have  vowed  to  Don 
Miguel  and  his  family  a  friendship  whkfh  will 


mE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


only  terminate  with  uiy  life.  I  tremble  for 
him  and  his  children  when  I  think  of  the 
numberless  dangers  that  surround  him,  and 
I  try  to  aid  him  as  far  as  my  experienee  and 
activity  permit  me.  That  is  the  secret  of 
my  conduct." 

"This  profession  of  faith  was  at  least 
useless,  my  friend.  I  have  known  you  too 
intimately  and  too  long  to  have  the  least 
doubt  of  your  intentions.  Hence,  you  see, 
1  place  such  confidence  in  you,  that  I  accept 
your  ideas  without  discussion,  so  convinced 
am  I  of  the  purity  of  your  intentions." 

"Thanks,  Don  Miguel:  you  have  judged 
me  correctly.  Come,  gentlemen,  to  horse, 
and  start.  We  must  .separate  here — you, 
Don  Miguel,  to  proceed  by  the  right-hand 
track  to  Paso;  you,  General,  by  the  left- 
hand  one  to  Santa  Fe ;  while  I,  with  Don 
Pablo  and  his  sister,  proceed  straight  on  till 
we  reach  the  hacienda." 

"  To  horse,  then  !"  Don  Miguel  shouted, 
resolutely;  "and  may  God  defend  the 
right!" 

"Yes,"  the  General  added;  "for  from 
this  moment  the  revolution  is  commenced." 

The  three  men  returned  to  their  friends. 
Don  Miguel  said  a  few  words  to  his  children, 
and  in  an  instant  the  whole  party  were  in 
the  saddle. 

"  The  die  is  cast!"  Valentine  exclaimed. 
"  May  heaven  keep  you,  gentlemen  !" 

"Forward!"  Don  Miguel  commanded. 

"Forward!"  General  Ibanez  shouted,  as 
he  rushed  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Valentine  looked  after  his  departing 
friends.  Their  black  outlines  were  soon 
blended  with  the  darkness,  and  then  the 
footfalls  of  their  horses  died  out  in  the  night. 
Valentine  gave  a  sigh  and  raised  his  head. 

"  God  will  protect  them,"  he  murmured; 
then  turning  to  the  two  young  people, 
"  Come  on,  children,"  he  said. 

They  started,  and  for  some  minutes  kept 
silence.  Valentine  was  too  busy  in  thought 
to  address  his  companions  ;  and  yet  Dona 
Clara  and  Don  Pablo,  whose  curiosity  was 
excited  to  the  highest  pitch,  were  burning 
to  question  him.  At  length  the  girl,  by 
whose  side  the  hunter  marched  with  that 
quick  step  which  easily  keeps  up  with  a 
horse,  bent  down  to  him. 

"My  friend,"  she  said  to  him  in  her  soft 
voice,  "what  is  taking  place?  Why  has 
my  father  left  us,  instead  of  coming  to  his 
house?" 

"Yes,"  Don  Pablo  added,  "he  seemed 
agitated  when  he  parted  from  us.  His 
voice  was  stern,  his  words  sharp.  What  is 
happening,  my  friend  ?  Why  did  not  my 
father  consent  to  my  accompanjdng  him  ?" 

Valentine  hesitated  to  answer. 

"  I  implore  you,  my  friend,"  Dona  Clara 
continued,  "  do  not  leave  us  in  this  mortal 
anxiety.  The  announcement  of  a  misfor- 
tune would  certainly  cause  us  less  pain  than 
thd  perplexity  in  which,  we  are." 

**  Why  fdrc«  me  to  fepeak,  my  children  ?" 


the  hunter  answered  in  a  saddened  voictf 
"  The  secret  you  ask  of  me  is  not  mine.  If 
your  father  did  not  impart  his  plans  to  you, 
it  was  doubtless  because  weighty  reasons 
oppose  it.  Do  not  force  me  to  render  you 
more  sorrowful  by  telling  you  things  you 
ought  not  to  know.'' 

';But  I  am  not  a  child,"  Don  Pablo  ex- 
claimed. "It  seems  tome  that  rny  father 
ought  not  to  have  thus  held  his  confidence 
from  me." 

"Do  not  accuse  your  father,  my  friend," 
Valentine  answered,  gravely:  "probably 
he  could  not  have  acted  otherwise." 

"  Valentine,  Valentine  !  I  will  not  accept 
those  poor  reasons,"  the  young  man  urged. 
"In  the  name  of  our  friendship  I  insist  on 
your  explaining  yourself." 

"Silence!"  the  hunter  suddenly  inter- 
rupted him.  "I  hear  suspicious  sounds 
around  us." 

The  three  travelers  stopped  and  listened, 
but  all  was  quiet.  The  house  was  about 
live  hundred  yards  at  the  most  from  the  spot 
where  they  halted.  Don  Pablo  and  Dona 
Clara  heard  nothing,  but  Valentine  made 
them  a  sign  to  remain  quiet :  then  he  dis- 
mounted and  placed  his  ear  to  the  ground. 

"Follow  me,"  he  said.  "  Something  is 
happening  here  which  I  can  not  make  out; 
but  it  alarms  me." 

The  young  people  obeyed  without  hesita- 
tion ;  but  they  had  only  gone  a  few  paces 
when  Valentine  stopped  again. 

"  Are  your  weapons  loaded  ?"  he  sharply 
asked  Don  Pablo. 

"  Yes." 

"Good!  Perhaps  you  will  have  to  make 
use  of  them." 

"  All  at  once  the  gallop  of  a  horse  urged 
to  its  utmost  speed  was  audible. 

"  Attention  !"  Valentine  muttered. 

Still  the  horseman,  whoever  he  might  be, 
rapidly  advanced  in  the  direction  of  the 
travelers,  and  soon  came  up  to  them.  Sud- 
denly Valentine  bounded  like  a  panther, 
seized  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  stopped 
it  dead. 

"  Who  are  you,  and  where  are  you  going  ?* 
he  shouted,  as  he  put  a  pistol-barrel  against 
the  stranger's  chest. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  the  latter  said,  not 
replying  to  the  question.  "  Perhaps  I  shall 
be  able  to  save  you.  Fly,  fly,  in  all  haste  !" 

"Father  Seraphin!"  Valentine  said  with 
stupor,  as  he  lowered  his  pistol.  "What 
has  happened ?" 

"Fly,  fly  !"  the  missionary  repeated,  who 
seemed  a  prey  to  the  most  profound  terror 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   ABDUCTION. 

RED  CEDAR  and  Fray  Ainbrosio  had  no» 
remained  inactive,  since  their  last  interview 
up  to  the  dtfy  when  Don  Migtffel  e%t  out  ft 


THE  TREACHEROUS  FRIES! . 


hunt  the  wild  horses.  These  two  fellows, 
so  suited  to  understand  each  other,  had 
maneuvered  with  extreme  skill.  Fray  Am- 
brosio, all  whose  avaricious  instincts  had 
been  aroused  since  he  had  so  artfully  stolen 
from  poor  Joaquin  the  secret  of  the  placer, 
had  assembled  a  formidable  collection  of 
the  bandits  who  always  swarm  on  the  In d inn 
frontiers.  In  a  few  days  he  found  himself  at 
the  head  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  adven- 
turers, all  men  who  had  cheated  the  gallows, 
and  of  whom  he  felt  the  more  sure  as  the 
secret  of  the  expedition  was  concealed  from 
them,  and  they  fancied  they  formed  a  war- 
party  engaged  to  go  scalp-hunting. 

These  men,  who  all  knew  Red  Cedar  by 
reputation,  burned  to  set  out,  so  convinced 
were  they  of  carrying  out  a  successful  expe- 
dition under  such  a  leader.  Only  two  men 
formed  an  exception  to  this  band  of  scoun- 
drels. They  were  Harry  and  Dick,  who,  for 
reasons  the  reader  has  doubtless  guessed, 
found  themselves,  to  their  great  regret,  mix- 
ed up  with  these  bandits.  Still  we  must 
say,  in  justice  to  Fray  Ambrosio's  soldiers, 
that  they  were  all  bold  hunters,  accus- 
tomed for  many  a  year  to  desert  life,  who 
knew  all  its  perils,  and  feared  none  of  its 
dangers. 

Fray  Ambrosio,  apprehending  the  effects 
of  too  much  liquor  *i  his  men,  had  made 
them  bivouac  at  the  entrance  of  the  desert, 
at  a  sufficiently  great  distance  from  the 
town  to  prevent  them  easily  going  there. 
The  adventurers  spent  their  time  joyously 
in  playing,  not  for  money,  as  they  had  none, 
but  for  the  scalps  they  intended  presently 
to  lift  from  the  Indians,  each  of  which  repre- 
sented a  very  decent  sum.  Still  Fray  Am- 
brosio, so  soon  as  his  expedition  was  com- 
pletely organized,  had  only  one  desire — to 
start  as  speedily  as  possible ;  but  for  two 
days  Red  Cedar  was  not  to  be  found.  At 
length  Fray  Ambrosio  succeeded  in  catching 
him  just  as  k6  was  entering  his  cabin. 

"What  has  become  of  you ?"  he  asked 
him. 

"What  does  that  concern  you:"'  the 
squatter  answered  brutally.  "  Have  I  to  an- 
swer for  my  conduct  to  you?" 

"I  do  not  say  so:  still,  connected  as  we 
are  at  this  moment,  it  would  be  as  well  for 
me  to  know  where  to  find  you." 

"I  have  been  attending  to  my  business,  as 
you  have  to  yours." 

"  Well,  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"  Very  much  so,"  he  answered  with  a  sin- 
ister smile.  "  You  will  soon  learn  the  re- 
sult of  my  journey." 

"  All  the  better.  If  you  are  satisfied,  I  am 
so  too." 

"Ah,  ah!" 

"  Yes,  all  is  ready  for  departure." 

"  Let  us  be  off— to-morrow  if  you  like." 

"  Or  this  very  night." 

"  Very  good.  You  are  like  me,  and  don't 
eare  to  travel  by  day  on  account  of  the  heat 
of  the  sun." 


The  two  accomplices  smiled  at  this  deli- 
cate j'est. 

"  But  before  starting,"  the  squatter  con- 
tinued, becoming  serious  again,  "  we  have 
something  left  to  do  here." 

"What  is  it?"  Fray  Ambrosio  asked  with 
candor. 

"It  is  WQiiderful  what  a  short  memory 
you  have.  Take  care :  that  failing  may 
play  you  an  awkward  trick  some  day." 

"  Thanks !     I  will  try  to  correct  it." 

"  Yes,  and  the  sooner  the  better:  in  the 
mean  while  I  will  refresh  your  memory." 

"  I  shall  feel  obliged  to  you." 

"And  Dona  Clara,  do  you  fancy  we  are 
going  to  leave  her  behind  ?" 

' '  Hum !    Then  you  still  think  of  that  ?' ' 

"  By  Jove !  more  than  ever." 

"  The  fact  is  it  will  not  be  easy  to  carry 
her  off  at  this  moment." 

"Why  not?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  she  is  not  at  the  haci- 
enda." 

"  That  is  certainly  a  reason." 

"Is  it  not?" 

"Yes;  but  she  must  be  somewhere,  I 
suppose?"  the  squatter  said  with  a  coarse 
laugh. 

"  She  has  gone  with  her  father  to  a  hunt 
of  wild  horses." 

"  The  hunt  is  over,  and  they  are  on  their 
return." 

"  You  are  well  informed." 

"  It  is  my  trade.  Come,  do  yon  still  mean 
serving  me  ?" 

"  I  must." 

"  That  is  how  I  like  you.  There  can  not 
be  many  people  at  the  hacienda?" 

"A  dozen  at  the  most." 

" Better  still.  Listen  to  me:  it  is  now 
four  in  the  afternoon.  I  have  a  ride  to  take. 
Return  to  the  hacienda,  and  I  will  come 
there  this  evening  at  nine,  with  twenty  res- 
olute men.  You  will  open  the  little  gate  of 
the  corral,  and  leave  me  to  act.  I  will  an- 
swer for  all." 

"If  you  wish  it,  it  must  be  so,"  Fray  Am- 
brosio said  with  a  sigh. 

"Are  we  going  to  begin  again?"  the 
squatter  asked  in  a  menacing  voice  as  he 
rose. 

"No,  no,  it  is  unnecessary,"  the  monk  ex- 
claimed. "  I  shall  expect  you." 

"Good:  till  this  evening." 

On  which  the  two  accomplices  separated. 
All  happened  as  had  been  arranged  between 
them.  At  nine  o'clock  Red  Cedar  reached 
the  little  gate,  which  was  opened  for  him  by 
Fray  Ambrosio,  and  the  squatter  entered  at 
the  head  of  his  three  sons  a*d  a  party  of 
bandits.  The  peons,  surprised  in  their  sleep, 
were  bound  before  they  even  knew  what 
was  taking  place. 

"  Now,"  Red  Cedar  said,  "  we  are  masters 
of  the  place,  the  girl  can  come  as  soon  as 
she  likes." 

"  Eh  ?"  the  monk  went  on.  "  All  is  not 
finished  yet.  Don  Miguel  is  a  re'solute  man, 


THE  TRAIL-HVNTER. 


and  ift  well  accompanied :  he  will  not  let  his 
daughter  be  carried  oil  under  his  eyes  with- 
out defending  her." 

"He  will  not  come,"  the  squatter  said 
with  a  sardonic  grin. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  That  is  not  your  business." 

"  We  shall  see." 

But  the  bandits  had  forgotten  Father  Ser- 
aph in.  The  missionary,  arouaed  by  the  un- 
usual noise  he  heard,  had  hastily  risen.  He 
had  heard  the  few  words  exchanged  between 
the  accomplices,  and  they  were  sufficient  to 
make  him  guess  the  fearful  treachery  they 
meditated.  Only  listening  to  his  heart,  the 
missionary  glided  out  into  the  corral,  sad- 
dled ahorse,  and  opening  a  door,  of  which  he 
had  a  key,  so  that  he  could  enter  or  leave 
the  hacienda  as  his  duties  required,  he  start- 
ed at  full  speed  in  the  direction  which  he 
supposed  the  hunters  must  follow  in  return- 
ing to  the  estate.  Unfortunately  Father 
Seraphin  had  been  unable  to  effect  his  flight 
•unheard  by  the  squatter's  practiced  ears. 

"Malediction!"  Red  Cedar  shouted  as  he 
rushed,  rifle  in  hand,  toward  a  window, 
which  he  dashed  out  with  his  list,  "  we  are 
betrayed." 

The  bandits  rushed  in  disorder  into  the 
corral  where  their  horses  were  tied  up,  and 
leaped  into  their  saddles.  At  this  moment 
a  shadow  flitted  across  the  plain  in  front  of 
the  squatter,  who  rapidly  shouldered  his 
rifle  and  tired.  Then  he  went  out ;  a  stifled 
cry  reached  his  ear,  but  the  person  the  ban- 
dit had  fired  at  still  went  on. 

"No  matter,"  the  squatter  muttered; 
"  that  fine  bird  has  lead  in  its  wing.  Sharp, 
sharp,  my  men,  on  the  trail!" 

And  all  the  bandits  rushed  off  in  pursuit 
of  the  fugitive. 

Father  Seraphin  had  fallen  in  a  fainting 
condition  at  Valentine's  feet. 

"  Good  heavens !"  the  hunter  exclaimed 
in  despair,  "  what  can  have  happened  ?" 

And  he  gently  carried  the  missionary  into 
a  ditch  that  ran  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
Father  Seraphin  had  his  shoulder  fractured, 
and  the  blood  poured  in  a  stream  from  the 
wound.  The  hnuter  looked  around  him ; 
but  at  this  moment  a  confused  sound  could 
be  heard  like  the  rolling  of  distant  thunder. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Red  Cedar,"  gasped  Father  Seraphin. 

"  We  must  fall  like  brave  men,  Don  Pu- 
bic," Valentine  said  sharply. 

Dona  Clara  was  pale  and  trembling. 

"  Come,"  Valentine  said. 

And,  with  a  movement  rapid  as  thought, 
he  bounded  q^  to  the  missionary's  horse. 
The  three  fugitives  started  at  full  speed. 
This  flight  lasted  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
then  Valentine  stopped.  He  dismounted, 
gave  the  young  people  a  signal  to  wait,  lay 
down  on  the  ground,  and  began  crawling  on 
his  hands  and  knees  through  the  long  grass 
that  concealed  him,  and  stopping  at  intervals 
to  listen  attentively  to  the  sounds  of  the 


desert.  Suddenly  he  rushed  toward  his  com- 
panions,  seized  their  horses  by  the  bridle, 
and  dragged  them  behind  a  mound,  where 
they  remained  concealed,  breathless  and  un- 
able to  speak. 

A  formidable  noise  of  horses  was  audible. 
Some  twenty  black  shadows  passed  like  a 
tornado  within  ten  paces  of  their  hiding- 
place,  not  seeing  them  in  consequence  of 
the  darkness.  Valentine  drew  a  deep 
breath. 

"  All  hope  is  not  lost,"  he  muttered. 

He  waited  anxiously  for  five  minutes : 
their  pursuers  were  going  further  and 
further  away.  Presently  the  sound  of  their 
horses'  hoofs  ceased  to  disturb  the  silence 
of  the  night. 

"  To  horse  !"  Valentine  said. 

They  leaped  into  their  saddles  and  start- 
ed again,  not  in  the  direction  of  the  hacien- 
da, but  in  that  of  the  Paso. 

"Loosen  your  bridles,"  the  hunter  said: 
"  more  still,  more  still — we  are  not  mov- 
ing." 

Suddenly  a  loud  neigh  was  borne  on  the 
breeze  to  the  ears  of  the  fugitives. 

"We  are  lost!"  Valentine  muttered. 
"  They  have  found  our  trail." 

Red  Cedar  was  too  old  a  hand  on  the  prai- 
rie to  be  long  thrown  out :  he  soon  perceiv- 
ed that  he  was  mistakqp,  and  was  now  turn- 
ing back,  quite  certain  this  time  of  holding 
the  trail.  Then  began  one  of  those  fabulous 
races  which  only  the  dwellers  on  the  prairie 
witness — races  which  intoxicate  and  cause  a 
giddiness,  and  which  no  obstacle  is  able 
to  stop  or  check,  for  the  object  is  success  or 
death.  The  bandits'  half-wild  horses,  ap- 
parently identifying  themselves  with  the 
ferocious  passions  of  their  riders,  glided 
through  the  night  with  the  rapidity  of  the 
phantom  steed  in  the  German  ballad,  bouud- 
ed  over  precipices,  and  rnshed  on  with  pro- 
digious speed. 

At  times  a  horseman  rolled  with  his  steed 
from  the  top  of  a  rock,  and  fell  into  an  abyss, 
uttering  a  yell  of  distress  ;  but  his  comrades 
passed  over  his  body,  borne  along  like  a 
whirlwind,  and  responding  to  this  cry  of 
agony,  the  final  appeal  of  a  brother,  by  a 
formidable  howl  of  rage.  This  pursuit  had 
already  lasted  two  hours,  and  the  fugitives 
had  not  lost  an  inch  of  ground :  their  horses, 
white  with  foam,  uttered  hoarse  cries  of 
fatigue  and  exhaustion  as  a  dense  smoke 
came  out  of  their  nostrils.  Dona  Clara, 
with  her  hair  untied  and  floating  in  the 
breeze,  with  sparkling  eye  and  closely  press- 
ed lips,  constantly  urged  her  horse  on  with 
voice  and  hand. 

"  All  is  over!"  the  hunter  suddenly  said. 
"  Save  yourselves !  I  will  let  myself  be 
killed  here,  so  that  you  may  go  on  for  ten 
minutes  longer,  and  be  saved.  I  will  hold 
out  for  that  time,  so  go  on." 

"No,"  Don  Pablo  answered  nobly;  "we 
will  be  all  saved  or  perish  together." 

"Yes,"  the  maiden  remarked. 


the 


Valentine  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  are  mad,    he  said. 

All  at  once  he  started,  for  their  pursuers 
were  rapidly  approaching. 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "Do  you  two  let  your- 
selves be  captured :  they  will  not  follow 
me,  as  they  owe  me  uo  grudge.  I  swear  to 
you  that  if  I  remain  at  liberty  I  will  deliver 
you,  even  if  they  hide  you  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth." 

Without  replying  Don  Pablo  dismounted, 
and  the  Trail-hunter  leaped  on  his  horse. 

"  Hope  for  the  best !"  heshouted,hoarsely, 
and  disappeared. 

Don  Pablo,  so  soon  as  he  was  alone  with 
his  sister,  made  her  dismount,  seated  her  at 
the  foot  of  a  tree,  and  stood  before  her  with 
a  pistol  in  either  hand.  He  had  not  to  wait 
long,  for  almost  immediately  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  bandits. 

"Surrender!"  Red  Cedar  shouted,  in  a 
panting  voice. 

Donrablo  smiled  disdainfully. 

"  Here  is  my  answer,"  he  said.  And  with 
two  pistol-shots  he  laid,  two  bandits  low ; 
then  he  threw  away  his  useless  weapons,  and 
crossing  his  arms  on  his  breast,  said : 

"Do  what  you  please  now:  I  am  aven- 
ged." 

Red  Cedar  bounded  with  fury. 

"Kill  that  dog!"  he  shouted. 

Shaw  rushed  toward  the  young  man,  threw 
his  nervous  arms  around  him,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear: 

"Do  not  resist,  but  fall  as  if  dead." 

Don  Pablo  mechanically  followed  his  acl- 
;. 

It  is  all  over,"  said  Shaw.      "Poor  fel- 
,  he  did  not  cling  to  life." 

He  returned  his  knife  to  his  belt,  threw 
Lie  supposed  corpse  over  his  shoulders',  and 
ragged  it  into  a  ditch.  At  the  sight  of  her 
brother's  body,  whom  she  supposed  to  be 
dead,  Clara  uttered  a  shriek  of  despair  and 
fainted.  Red  Cedar  laid  the  maiden  across 
his  saddle-bow,  and  the  whole  band,  start- 
ing at  a  gallop,  was  soon  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness. Don  Pablo  then  rose  slowly,  and 
took  a  sorrowful  glance  around. 

"  My  poor  sister!"  he  murmured. 

Then  he  perceived  her  horse  near  him. 

"  Valentine  alone  can  save  her,"  he  said. 

He  mounted  the  horse,  and  proceeded 
toward  the  town,  asking  himself  this  ques- 
tion, which  he  found  it  impossible  to  an- 
swer : 

"But  why  did  not  that  man  kill  me?" 
And  then  he  recalled  what  Shaw  had  once 
promised  him. 

A  few  paces  from  the  village  he  perceived 
two  men  halting  on  the  road,  and  conversing 
with  the  greatest  animation.  They  hurried- 
ly advanced  toward  him,  and  the  young  man 
uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  on  recognizing 
m.  They  were  Valentine  and  Curnm  ill  a. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  KEVOLT. 

DON  MIGUEL  ZARATE  had  marched  rapidly 
on  the  Paso ;  an  hour  after  leaving  Valentine 
he  saw  flashing  in  the  distance  the  lights 
that  shone  in  the  village  windows.  [The 
greatest  calmness  prevailed  in  the  vicinity  : 
only  at  times  could  be  heard  the  barking  of 
the  dogs  baying  at  the  moon,  or  the  savage 
miawliug  of  the  wild-cats  hidden  in  the 
shrubs.  At  about  one  hundred  yards  from 
the  village  a  man  suddenly  rose  before  the 
sin  all  party. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  he  shouted. 

"Don  Miguel  Zanite." 

At  these  words  twenty  men  hidden  in  the 
brushwood  rose  suddenly,  and  throwing 
their  rules  on  their  shoulders,  advanced  to 
meet  the  horsemen.  They  were  the  hunt- 
ers commanded  by  Curumilla,  who,  by  Val- 
entine's orders,  were  awaiting  the  haciende- 
ro's  arrival  to  join  him. 

"Well,"  Don  Miguel  asked  the  Indian 
chief,  "is  there  any  thing  new?" 

Cururnilla  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  we  can  advance  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  the  matter,  chief?  Have  you 
seen  any  thing  alarming  ?" 

"  No ;  and  yet  I  have  a  feeling  of  treach- 
ery." 

"How  so?" 

"lean  not  tell  yoff.  Apparently  every 
thing  is  as  usual :  still  tffere  is  something 
which  is  not  so.  Look  you,  it  is  scarce  ten 
o'clock:  generally  at  that  hour  all  the  sa- 
loons, are  crammed  with  gamblers  and 
drinkers,  the  streets  flocked  with  promena- 
ders.  This  night  there  is  nothing  of  the  sort : 
all  is  closed — the  town  seems  abandoned. 
This  tranquillity  is  factitious.  I  am  alarmed, 
for  I  hear  the  Kile; tec.  Take  care." 

Don  Miguel  was  involuntarily  struck  by 
the  chief's  remarks.  He  had  known  Curu- 
milla for  a  long  time.  He  had  often  seen 
him  display  In  the  most  dangerous  circum- 
stances a  coolness  and  contempt  for  death 
be)roud  all  praise  :  hence  some  importance 
must  be  attached  to  the  apprehensions  and 
anxiety  of  such  a  man.  The  haciendero  or- 
dered his  party  to  halt,  assembled  his  Mends, 
and  held  a  council.  All  were  of  opinion 
that,  before  venturing  to  advance  further, 
they  should  send  as  scout  a  clever  man  to 
traverse  the  town,  and  see  for  himself  if 
the  fears  of  the  Indian  chief  were  well  foun- 
ded. 

One  of  the  hunters  offered  himself.  The 
conspirators  concealed  themsplves  on  either 
side  the  road,  and  awaited,  lying'  in  the 
shrubs,  the  return  of  their  messenger.  He 
was  a  half-breed,  Simon  Munez  by  name,  to 
whom  the  Indians  had  given  the  sobriquet 
of  "  Dog-face,"  owing  to  his  extraordinary 
likeness  to  that  animal.  This  name  had 
stuck  to  the  hunter,  who  had  been  com- 
pelled to  accept  it.  He  was  short  and  clum- 


TUB  THAIL-RUNTER. 


ay,  but  endowed  with  maryelous  strength ; 
and  we  may  say  at  once  that  he  was  an  emis- 
sary of  Red  Cedar,  and  had  only  joined  the 
hunters  in  order  to  betray  them. 

When  he  left  the  conspirators  he  proceeded 
toward  the  village  whistling.  He  had  scarce 
takea  a  dozen  steps  into  the  first  street  ere 
a  door  opened,  and  a  man  appeared.  This 
man  stepped  forward  and  addressed  the 
faunter. 

* '  You  whistle  very  late,  my  friend." 

"I  whistle  to  wake  those  who  are  asleep," 
the  half-breed  made  answer. 

"  Come  in,"  the  man  continued. 

Dog-face  went  in,  and  the  door  closed  upon 
him.  He  remained  in  the  house  half  an 
hour,  then  went  out,  and  hurried  back  along 
the  road  he  had  traversed. 

Red  Cedar,  who  wished  before  all  to 
avenge  himself  on  Don  Miguel  Zarate,  had 
discovered,  through  Fray  Ambrosio,  the 
conspirators'  new  plan.  Without  loss  of 
time  he  had  taken  his  measures  in  conse- 
quence, and  had  managed  so  well  that,  al- 
though the  General,  the  Governor,  and  the 
criminal  judge  were  prisoners,  Don  Miguel 
must  succumb  in  the  contest  he  was  pre- 
paring to  provoke.  Fray  Ambrosio,  to  his 
other  qualities,  joined  that  of  being  a  lis- 
tener at  doors.  In  spite  of  the  distrust 
which  Jjis  patron  was  beginning  to  display  to- 
ward him  on  Valentine's  recommendation, 
he  had  surprised  a  conversation  between 
Don  Miguel  andjj-eneijal  Ibancz.  This  con- 
versation, immediately  reported  to  Red  Ce- 
dar, who,  according  to  his  usual  custom, 
had  appeared  to  attach  no  importance  to  it, 
had  been  sufficient,  however,  to  make  the 
squatter  prepare  his  batteries  and  counter- 
mine the  conspiracy. 

"  Dog-face  rejoined  his  companions  after 
an  hour's  absence. 

"Well?"  Don  Miguel  asked  him. 

"All  is  quiet,"  the  half-breed  answered; 
•"the  inhabitants  have  retired  to  their 
houses,  and  everybody  is  asleep." 

"  You  noticed  nothing  of  a  suspici< 
ture?" 

"  I  went  through  the  town  from  one  end 
to  the  other,  and  saw  nothing." 

"  We  can  advance  then  •"' 

"  In  all  security:  it  will  only  be  a  prome- 
nade." 

On  this  assurance  the  conspirators  regain- 
ed their  courage,  Curumilla  was  treated  as 
a  visionary,  and  the  order  was  given  to  ad- 
vance. Still  Dog-face's  report,  far  from 
dissipating  the  Indian  chiefs  doubts,  had 
produced  the  contrary  effect,  and  considera- 
bly augmented  them.  Saying  nothing,  he 
placed  himself  by  the  hunter's  side,  with 
the  secret  intention  of  watching  him  close- 
ly- 

The  plan  of  the  conspirators  was  very 
simple.  They  would  march  directly  on  the 
Cabildo  (Town-hall,)  seize  it,  and  proclaim 
a  Provisional  Government.  Under  present 
circumstances  nG*%ig  appeared  tc»  b$  easier. 


suspicious  na- 


Don  Miguel  and  his  band  entered  the  Paso, 
and  nothing  occurred  to  arouse  their  suspi- 
cions. It  resembled  that  town  in  .the 
"Arabian  Nights,"  in  which  all  the  inhabi- 
tants, struck  by  the  wand  of  the  wicked 
enchanter,  sleep  an  eternal  sleep.  The  con- 
spirators advanced  into  the  town  with  their 
rifle-barrels  thrust  forward,  with  eye  and  ear 
on  the  watch,  and  ready  to  fire  at  the  slight- 
est alarm :  but  nothing  stirred.  As  Guru- 
railla  had  observed,  the  town  was  too  quiet. 
This  tranquillity  hid  something  extraordi- 
nary, and  must  conceal  the  tempest.  In 
spite  of  himself  Don  Miguel  felt  a  secret 
apprehension  which  he  could  not  master. 

To  some  Don  Miguel  will  perhaps  appear 
a  poor  conspirator,  without  foresight  or  any 
great  connection  in  his  ideas.  From  our 
point  of  view  that  is  possible;  but  in  a 
country  like  Mexico,  which  counts  its  revo- 
lutions by  hundreds,  and  where  pronuncia- 
mentos  take  place,  in  most  cases,  without 
sense  or  reason,  because  a  colonel  wishes  to 
become  a  General,  or  a  lieutenant  a  captain, 
things  are  not  regarded  so  closely ;  and  the 
hacieudero,  on  the  contrary,  had  evidenced 
tact,  prudence,  and  talent  in  carrying  out  a 
conspiracy  which,  during  the  several  years 
it  had  been  preparing,  had  only  come  across 
one  traitor.  And  now  it  was  too  late  to 
turn  back :  the  alarm  had  been  given,  and 
the  Government  was  on  its  guard.  They 
must  go  onward,  even  if  they  succumbed 
in  the  struggle. 

In  the  mean  while  the  conspirators  ad- 
vanced. They  had  nearly  reached  the  heart 
of  the  town :  they  were  at  this  moment  in 
a  little,  dirty,  and  narrow  street,  when  sud- 
denly a  dazzling  light  illumined  the  dark- 
ness ;  torches  flashed  from  all  the  windows  ; 
and  Don  Miguel  saw  that  the  two  ends  of 
the  street  in  which  he  was  were  guarded  by 
strong  detachments  of  cavalry. 

"  Treachery  !"  the  conspirators  shouted  in 
terror. 

Curumilla  bounded  on  Dog-face,  and 
buried  his  knife  between  his  shoulders. 
The  half-breed  fell  in  a  lump,  quite  dead  and 
not  uttering  a  cry.  Don  Miguel  judged  the 
position  at  the  first  glance  :'  he  saw  that  he 
and  his  party  were  lost. 

"  Let  us  die !"  he  said. 

"  We  will !"  the  conspirators  responded. 

Curumilla  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle  beat 
in  the  door  of  the  nearest  house,  and  rush- 
ed in,  the  conspirators  following  him.  They 
were  soon  intrenched  on  the  roof.  In  Mex- 
ico all  the  houses  have  flat  roofs,  formed  like 
terraces.  Thanks  to  the  Indian  chief  b  idea, 
the  rebels  found  themselves  in  possession  of 
an  improvised  fortress,  where  they  could 
defend  themselves  for  a  long"  time,  and  sell 
their  lives  clearly, 

The  troops  advanced  from  each  end  of  the 
street,  while  the  roofs  of  all  the  houses 
were  occupied  by  soldiers.  The  battle  was 
about  to  begin  between  earth  and  heaven, 
and  promised  to  be  terrible.  At  this 


THE  SURRENDER. 


moment  General  Guerrero,  who  commanded 
the  troops,  bade  them  halt,  and  advanced 
alone  to  the  house  on  the  top  of  which  the 
conspirators  were  intrenched.  Don  Miguel 
beat  up  the  guns  of  his  comrades,  who  aim- 
id  at  the  officer. 

Wait,"  he  said  to  them ;  and,  addressing 
the  General,  "What  do  you  want?1'  he 
shouted. 

"  To  offer  you  propositions." 

"  Speak." 

The  General  came  a  few  paces  nearer,  so 
that  those  he  addressed  could  not  miss  one 
of  his  words. 

u  I  offer  you  life  and  liberty  if  you  consent 
to  surrender  your  leader,"  he  said. 

"Never!"  the  conspirators  shouted  in 
one  voice. 

"It  is  my  place  to  answer,"  Don  Miguel 
said;  and 'then  turning  to  the  General, 
"  What  assurance  do  you  give  me  that  these 
conditions  will  be  honorably  carried  out  ?" 
My  word  of  honor  as  a  soldier,"  the  Gen- 
eral answered. 

"Very  good."  Don  Miguel  went  on;  "I 

cept.  All  the  men  who  accompany  me 
will  leave  the  town  one  after,  the  other." 

No,  we  will  not!"  the  conspirators 
shouted,  as  they  brandished  their  weapons  ; 
"  we  would  sooner  die." 

"  Silence!"  the  haciendero  said  in  a  loud 
voice.  "I  alone  have  the  right  to  speak 

ere,  for  I  am  your  chief.    The  life. of  brave 

en  like  you  must  not  be  needlessly  sacri- 
ficed. Go,  I  say :  I  order  you — I  implore  it 
of  you,"  he  added  with  tremor  in  his  voice. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  soon  take  your  revenge." 

The  conspirators  hung  their  heads  mourn- 
fully. 

"  Well  ?"  the  General  asked. 

"  My  friends  accept.     I  will  remain  alone 
.ere.      If  you  break  your  word  I  will  kill 
myself." 

"I  repeat  that  you  hold  my  word,"  the 

eneral  answered. 

The  conspirators  came  one  after  the  other 
o  embrace  Don  Miguel,  and  then  went 
down  into  the  street  without  being  in 
any  way  interfered  with.  Things  happen 
thus  in  this  country,  where  conspiracies  and 
revolutions  are  the  order  of  the  day,  as 
it  were.  The.  defeated  are  spared  as  far  as 
possible,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the 
victors  may  find  themselves  to-morrow 
fighting  side  by  side  with  them  for  the  same 
cause.  Curnmilla  was  the  last  to  depart. 

"All  is  not  ended  yet,"  he  said  to  Don 
Miguel.  "  Koutonepi  will  save  you,  father." 

The  haciendero  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"Chief,"  he  said  in  a  deeply-moved  voice, 
"I  leave  my  daughter  to  Valentine,  Father 
Seraphin,  and  yourself.  Watch  over  her  : 
the  poor  child  will  soon  have  no  father/' 

Curumilla  embraced  Don  Miguel  silently 
and  retired :  he  had  soon  disappeared  in  the 
crowd,  the  General  having  honorably  kept 
his  word.  Don  Miguel  threw  down  his 
weapons  and  descended. 


"  I  am  your  prisoner,"  he  said. 

General  Guerrero  bowed,  and  made  him  H 
sign  to  mount  the  horse  a  soldier  had  brought 
up. 

"Where  are  we  going;'1''  the  haciendero 
said. 

"To  Santa  Fe,"  the  General  answered, 
"where  you  will  be  tried  with  General  Iba- 
nez,  who  will  doubtless  soon  be  a  prisoner 
like  yourself." 

"Oh!"  Don  Miguel  muttered  thoughtful- 
ly, "  who  betrayed  us  this  time  ?" 

"It  was  still  Red  Cedar,"  the  General  an- 
swered. 

The  haciendero  let  his  head  sink  on  his 
chest,  and  remained  silent.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  later  the  prisoner  left  the  Paso  del 
Norte,  escorted  by  a  regiment  of  dragoons. 
When  the  last  trooper  had  disappeared  in 
the  windings  of  the  road,  three  men  left  the 
shrubs  that  concealed  them,  and  stood  like 
three  phantoms  in  the  midst  of  the  deso- 
late plain. 

"  Oh  heavens !"  Don  Pablo  cried  in  a 
heart-rending  voice,  "  my  father,  my  sister 
— who  will  restore  them  to  me'?" 

"  I !"  Valentine  said  in  a  grave  voice,  as 
he  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Am  I 
not  the  TRAIL-HUNTER  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   THREE   PLOTTERS. 

ABOUT  a  month  after  the  events  we  have 
described,  two  horsemen,  well  mounted, 
and  carefully  enwrapped  in  their  cloaks,  en- 
tered at  a  smart  trot  the  town  of  Santa  F6 
between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. 

Santa  F6",  the  capital  of  New  Mexico,  is  a 
pretty  town,  built  in  the  midst  of  a  laugh- 
ing and  fertile  plain.  One  of  its  sides  oc- 
cupies the  angle  formed  by  a  small  stream : 
it  is  surrounded  by  the  adobe  walls  of  the 
houses  by  which  it  is  bordered.  The  entrance 
of  each  street  is  closed  bj"  stakes  in  the 
form  of  palisades ;  and  like  the  majority 
of  towns  in  Spanish  America,  the  houses, 
built  only  one-story  high  in  consequence  of 
the  earthquakes,  are  covered  with  terrace? 
of  well-beaten  earth,  which  are  a  sufficient 
protection  in  this  glorious  climate,  where 
the  sky  is  constantly  pure. 

In  the  time  of  the  Castilian  rule,  Santa  Fe 
enjoyed  a  certain  importance,  owing  to  its 
strategic  position,  which  allowed  an  easy  de- 
fense against  the  incursions  of  the  Indians ; 
but  since  the  emancipation  of  Mexico  this 
city,  like  all  the  other  centers  of  population 
in  this  unhappy  country,  has  seen  its  splen- 
dor vanish  forever.  In  a  word,  this  city, 
which  h'fty  years  back  contained  more  than 
ten  thousand  inhabitants,  has  now  scarcely 
three  thousand,  eaten  up  by  fevers  and  the 
utmost  wretchedness. 

During  the  last  few  weeks  Santa  F^  had 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


appeared  to  emerge,  as  if  by  mag^c,  from  the 
lethargy  into  which  it  is  ordinarily  plunged ; 
n  certain  degree  of  animation  prevailed  in  its 
usually  deserted  streets.  The  fact  was,  an 
event  of  immense  importance  had  recently 
taken  place  in  this  town.  The  two  leaders 
of  the  conspiracy  lately  attempted  had  been 
transferred  to  safe-keeping  at  Santa  Fu. 

The  Mexicans,  ordinarily  so  slow  when  jus- 
tice has  to  be  dealt,  are  the  most  expeditious 
people  in  the  world  when  a  conspiracy  has 
to  be  punished..  Don  Miguel  and  General 
Ibanez  had  not  pined  long  in  prison.  A 
court-martial,  hurriedly  convened,  had  as- 
sembled, under  the  presidency  of  the  Gov- 
ernor, and  the  two  conspirators  were  unani- 
mously condemned  to  be  shot. 

The  haciendero,  through  his  name  and 
position,  and  especially  on  account  of  his 
fortune,  had  numerous  partisans  in  the  prov- 
ince :  hence  the  announcement  of  the  ver- 
dict had  caused  a  profound  stupor,  which 
almost  immediately  changed  into  anger, 
among  the  rich  land-owners  and  the  Indians 
of  New  Mexico.  A  dull  agitation  prevailed 
throughout  the  country ;  and  the  Governor, 
who  felt  too  weak  to  hold  head  against  the 
storm  that  threatened  him,  and  regretted 
that  he  had  carried  matters  so  far,  was  tem- 
porizing, and  trying  to  evade  the  peril  of 
his  position  until  a  regiment  of  dragoons  he 
had  asked  of  the  Government  arrived,  and 
gave  strength  to  the  law.  The  condemned 
men,  whom  the  Governor  had  not  yet  dared 
to  execute,  were  still  provisionally  detained 
m  the  prison. 

The  two  men  of  whom  we  have  spoken 
rode  without  stopping  through  the  streets 
of  the  town,  deserted  at  this  hour,  when 
everybody  is  at  home  enjoying  his  siesta, 
and  proceeded  toward  an  unpretending  ran- 
cho,  built  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  town  from  that  by 
which  they  entered. 

"Well,"  one  of  the  horsemen  said,  ad- 
Iressing  his  comrade,  "was  I  not  right? 
Y"ou  see  every  one  is  asleep  :  there  is  nobody 
to  watch  us.  We  have  arrived  at  a  capital 
moment." 

"Bah!"  the  other  answered  in  a  rough 
voice,  "do  you  believe  that?  In  towns 
there  is  always  somebody  watching  to  see 
what  docs  not  concern  him,  and  report  it 
after  his  fashion." 

"  That  is  possible,"  the  first  said,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  disdainfully.  "I  care 
about  it  as  little  as  I  do  for  a  string-halt 
horse." 

"  And  I  too,"  the  other  said  sharply. 
"  Do  you  imagine  that  I  care  more  than  you 
do  for  the  gossips  ?  But  stay ;  I  fancy  we 
have  reached  the  rancho  of  Andres  Ga'rote. 
This  must  be  the  filthy  tenement,  unless  1 
am  mistaken." 

"  It  is  the  house.  I  only  hope  the  scamp 
has  not  forgotten  the  meeting  I  gave  him. 
Wait  a  minute,  senor  padre ;  I  will  give  the 
»greed-oa  signal," 


"  It  ia  not  worth  while,  Red  Cedar.  You 
know  that  I  am  always  at  your  excellency's 
orders  when  you  may  please  to  give  them," 
a  mocking  voice  said  from  inside  the  rancho, 
the  door  of  which  immediately  opened  to 
give  admission  to  the  new-comers,  and  al- 
lowed a  glimpse  of  the  tall  figure  of  Andres 
Garote  himself. 

The  travelers  dismounted  and  entered 
the  rancho. 

Andres  took  the  bridle  of  the  horses  and 
led  them  to  the  corral,  where  he  unsaddled 
them  and  gave  each  a  truss  of  alfalfa. 

The  travelers,  fatigued  by  a  long  journey, 
sat  down  on  butaccas  arranged  against  the 
wall,  and  awaited  the  host's  return,  while 
wiping  their  dark  foreheads  and  twisting  a 
maize  cigarette  between  their  fingers.  The 
room  in  which  they  were  had  nothing  ex- 
tremely attractive  about  it.  It  was  a  large 
chamber  with  two  windows,  protected  by 
iron  bars,  the  greasy  panes  allowing  but  a 
doubtful  light  to  pass.  The  naked  and  smo- 
ky walls  were  covered  with  clumsily-painted 
pictures,  representing  various  holy  objects. 
The  furniture  only  consisted  of  three  01 
four  halting-tables,  the  same  number  of 
benches,  and  a  few  butaccas,  the  holey  and 
harsh  leather  of  which  evinced  lengthened 
use.  As  for  the  floor  it  was  of  beaten  earth, 
but  rendered  uneven  by  the  mud  incessantly 
brought  in  upon  the  feet  of  visitors.  A  door 
carefully  closed  led  to  an  inner  room,  in 
which  the  ranchero  slept.  Another  door 
was  opposite  to  it,  and  through  this  Andres 
speedily  entered  after  giving  the  horses  theii 
provender. 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  yet,"  he  said,  as  he 
entered;  "but  you  are  welcome.  Is  there 
any  thing  new?" 

"  My  faith,  I  know  nothing  but  the  affair 
that  brings  us.  It  is  rather  serious,  I  fancy, 
and  prevents  us  attending  to  any  thing  else," 
Red  Cedar  remarked. 

"  Caspita  I  what  vivacity,  compadre  !"  An- 
dres exclaimed.  "But,  before  talking,  I 
hope  you  will  take  some  refreshment  at  any 
rate.  There  is  nothing  like  a  cup  of  mezcal 
to  clear  the  brain." 

"  Not  to  forget,"  Fray  Ambrosio  said, 
"  that  it  is  infernally  hot,  and  my  tongue  is 
glued  to  my  palate,  as  I  have  swallowed  so 
much  dust." 

Andres  went  to  look  for  a  bottle  among 
several  others  arranged  on  a  sort  of  a  bar, 
and  placed  it  before  the  travelers. 

The  liquor,  liberally  poured  out,  was 
swallowed  at  a  draught  by  the  three  men, 
who  put  their  glasses  on  the  table  with  a 
"hum  "  of  satisfaction,  and  that  clicking  of 
the  tongue  peculiar  to  topers  when  they  are 
swallowing  any  thing  that  tickles  their 
throat. 

"And  now  suppose  we  talk  seriously," 
Red  Cedar  said. 

"  At  your  orders,"  Andres  replied.  "  Still, 
if  you  prefer  a  hand  at  monte,  you  know 
that  I  have  cards  at  your  service." 


TEHEE  PLOTTERS. 


Presently,    Seiior    Andres,     presently, 
ivery   thing  will  have  its  turn.      Let  us 
st  settle  our   little  business,"  Fray  Ain- 
sio  judieiously  observed. 
Andres  Garote  bowed  his  head  in  resigna- 
'on,  while  thrusting  back  into  his  pocket 
le  pack  of  cards  he  had  already  half  drawn 
.it.     The  three  men  made  themselves   as 
)mfortable  as  they  could,  and  Red  Cedar, 
;r  casting  a  suspicious  glance  around  him, 
',  length  took  the  word. 
"You  know,"  he  said,    "how,  when  we 
lought  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  proceed 
raight  to  Apacheria,  the  sudden  desertion 
nearly  all  our  men  checked  us.    The  po- 
uon  was  most  critical  for  us.  and  the  ab- 
iction  of  Dona  Clara  compelled  us  to  take 
ic  utmost  precautions." 

That  is  true,"  Andres  Garote  observed, 
ith  an  air  of  conviction. 
"Although  certain  influential  persons 
rotect  us  under  the  rose,"  Red  Cedar  con- 
tinued, "we  are  compelled  to  keep  in  the 
shade  as  far  as  we  can.  I  therefore  sought 
to  remedy  the  gravest  points  in  the  busi- 
ness. In  the  first  place,  the  girl  was  hid- 
den in  an  inaccessible  retreat,  and  then  I 
began  looking  for  comrades  to  take  the 
place  of  those  who  abandoned  us  so  sud- 
denly." 

"Well?"  the  two  men  interrupted  him, 
sharply. 

"At  this  moment,"  Red  Cedar  calmly 
continued,  "  when  the  placers  of  California 
call  away  all  the  men  belonging  to  the  pro- 
fession, it  was  certainly  no  easy  task  to  col- 
lect one  hundred  men  of  the  sort  we  want, 
the  more  so  as  we  shall  have  to  fight  the  In- 
dies Bravos  in  our  expedition.  I  did  not 
care  to  enlist  novices,  who,  at  sight  of  the 
first  Apache  or  Comanche  sarages,  would 
bolt  in  terror,  and  leave  us  in  the  lurch  ou 
the  prairies.  What  I  wanted  were  resolute 
men,  whom  no  fatigue  would  disgust,  and 
who,  once  attached  to  our  enterprise,  would 
follow  it  out  to  the  end.  I  have,  therefore, 
during  the  past  month,  been  running  about 
to  all  the  frontier  presidios ;  and  the  devil 
has  come  to  my  help  tolerably  well,  for  the 
evil  is  now  repaired,  and  the  band  com- 
plete." 

"  I  hope,  Red  Cedar,"  Fray  Ambrosjo 
asked,  "  that  you  have  not  spoken  about  the 
placer  to  your  men  ?" 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool?  No,"  the 
squatter  answered,  sharply,  "no,  no.  A 
hundred  thousand  reasons  urge  us  to  be  pru- 
dent, and  keep  the  expedition  secret.  An 
indiscretion  would  ruin  us  now,  when  the 
whole  world  only  dreams  of  mines  and  pla- 
cers, and  Europe  sends  us  a  mob  of  lean  and 
starving  vagabonds  greedy  to  grow  fat  at 
our  expense." 

"Famously  reasoned,"  said  Andres. 

"No,  no,  trust  to  me.    I  have  assembled 

the  finest  collection  of  men  ever  brought 

together  for  an  expedition,  all  food  for  the 

gallows,  ruined  by  monte,  who  do  not  care 


for  hard  blows,  and  on  whom  I  can  fully 
count,  while  being  very  careful  not  to  drop 
a  word  that  can  enlighten  them  as  to  the 
spot  whither  we  propose  leading  them  ;  for, 
in  that  case,  I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that 
they  would  abandon  us  without  the  slight- 
est scruples,  or,  as  is  even  more  probable, 
assassinate  us  to  jjain  possession  of  the  im- 
mense treasures  we  covet." 

"Nothing  can  be  more  just,"  Fray  Am- 
brosio  answered.  "  I  am  quite  of  your 
opinion,  Ked  Cedar.  Now,  what  have  you 
resolved  on  ?" 

"We  have  not  an  instant  to  lose,"  the 
squatter  continued.  "  This  very  evening, 
or  to-morrow  at  the  latest,  we  must  set 
out.  Who  knows  whether  we  have  not  al- 
ready delayed  our  start  too  long  ?  Perhaps 
one  of  those  European  vagabonds  may  have 
discovered  our  placer,  for  those  scoundrels 
have  a  peculiar  scent  for  gold." 

Fray  Ambrosio  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at 
his  partner. 

"Hum!"  he  muttered,  "that  would  be 
very  unlucky,  for  hitherto  the  business  has 
been  well  managed." 

"  For  that  reason,"  Red  Cedar  hastened  to 
add,  "I  only  suggest  a  doubt  —  nothing 
more." 

"Come,  Red  Cedar,"  the  monk  said, 
"you  have  yourself  narrated  all  the  em- 
barrassments of  our  position,  and  the  count- 
less difficulties  we  shall  have  to  surmount 
before  reaching  our  object.  Why,  then, 
complicate  the  gravity  of  our  situation  still 
more,  and  create  fresh  enemies  needlessly?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you.  Be  good 
enough  to  explain  yourself  more  clearly." 

"1  allude  to  the  young  girl  you  carried 
off." 

"Ah,  ah!"  Red  Cedar  said,  with  a  grin, 
"is  that  where  the  shoe  pinches  you,  com- 
rade? I  am  vexed  at  it ;  but  I  will  not  an- 
swer your  question.  If  I  carried  off  that 
woman,  it  was  because  I  had  pressing  rea- 
sons to  do  so.  These  reasons  still  exist : 
that  is  all  I  can  tell  you.  All  the  better  if 
these  explanations  are  sufficient  for  you;  if 
not,  you  must  put  up  with  them,  for  you 
will  get  no  others." 

"  Still  it  appears  to  me  that,  regarding  the 
terms  on  which  we  stand  to  each  other — " 

"What  can  there  be  in  common  between 
the  abduction  of  Dona  Clara  and  the  dis- 
covery of  a  placer  in  the  heart  of  Apache- 
ria? Come,  you  are  mad,  Fray  Ambrosio: 
the  mczcal  is  getting  to  your  head." 

"Still—"  the  monk  insisted. 

"Enough  of  that !"  Red  Cedar  shouted 
as  he  roughly  smote  the  table  with  his 
clenched  fist.  "I  will  not  hear  another 
word  on  the  subject." 

At  this  moment  two  smart  blows  were 
heard  on  the  carefully-bolted  door. 

The  three  men  started,  and  Red  Cedar 
broke  off. 

"  Shall  I  open  ?"  Andres  asked. 

"Yes,"  Fray  Ambrosio  answered:-'  he«i 


THE  TRAIL-KUNTER. 


tation  or  refusal  might  give  an  alarm.     We 
must  foresee  every  thing." 

Red  Cedar  consented  with  a  toss  of  his 
head,  and  the  ranchero  went  with  an  ill 
graee  toward  the  door,  which  was  being 
struck  as  if  about  to  be  beaten  in. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   CROSS   CUT. 

So  soon  as  the  door  was  opened  two  men 
appeared  on  the  threshold.  The  first  was 
Curumilla ;  the  other,  wrapped  up  in  a  large 
cloak,  and  with  his  broad-brimmed  hat 
drawn  over  his  eyes,  entered  the  room,  mak- 
ing the  Indian  chief  a  sign  to  follow  him. 
He  was  evidently  a  Mexican. 

"  What  shall  I  serve  to  your  excellencies  ?" 
asked  Andres. 

"A  bottle  of  mezcal,"  the  stranger  said. 

The  new-comers  seated  themselves  at  a 
table  at  the  end  of  the  room,  at  a  spot 
which  the  light  reached  in  such  a  weakened 
state  that  it  was  almost  dark.  When  they 
were  served,  each  poured  out  a  glass  of 
liquor,  which  he  drank ;  and  leaning  his 
head  on  his  hands,  the  Mexican  appeared 
plunged  in  deep  thought,  not  occupying 
himself  the  least  in  the  world  about  the  per- 
sons near  him.  Curumilla  crossed  his  arms 
on  his  chest,  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  re- 
mained motionless. 

Still  the  arrival  of  these  two  men,  especial- 
ly the  presence  of  the  stranger,  had  sudden- 
ly frozen  the  eloquence  of  our  three  friends. 
Gloomy  and  silent,  they  instinctively  felt 
that  the  new-comers  were  enemies,  and 
anxiously  waited  for  what  .was  about  to  oc- 
cur. At  length  Red  Cedar,  doubtless  more 
impatient  than  his  comrades,  and  wishful  to 
know  at  once  what  he  had  to  expect,  rose, 
filled  his  glass,  and  turned  toward  the  stran- 
gers. 

"  Strangers,"  he  said,  imitating  that  ex- 
quisite politeness  which  the  Mexicans  pos- 
sess in  the  highest  degree,  "  I  have  the 
honor  of  drinking  to  your  health." 

At  this  invitation  Curumilla  remained  in- 
sensible as  a  granite  statue :  his  companion 
slowly  raised  his  head,  fixed  his  eye  for  a 
moment  on  the  speaker,  and  answered  in  a 
loud  and  tirm  voice : 

"  It  is  needless,  for  I  shall  not  drink  yours. 
What  I  say  to  you,"  he  added,  laying  a  stress 
on  the  words,  "}rour  friends  can  also  take 
for  themselves  if  they  think  proper." 

Fray  Ambrosio  rose  violently. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?"  he  exclaimed  in  a 
threatening  voice.  "  Do  you  mean  to  insult 
me?" 

"There  are  people  whom  a  man  can  not 
mean  to  insult,"  the  stranger  continued  in 
a  cutting  voice.  "  Remember  this,  senor 
padra — I  do  not  wish  to  have  any  dealings 
with  you." 

4 '  Why  so  y» 


"  Because  I  do  not  please — that  ia  all. 
Now,  gentlemen,  do  not  trouble  yourselves 
about  me,  I  beg,  but  continue  your  conver- 
sation :  it  was  most  interesting  when  I  ai'- 
rived.  You  were  speaking,  I  believe,  about 
an  expedition  you  are  preparing :  there  was 
a  question  too,  I  fancy,  when  I  entered, 
about  a  girl  your  worthy  friend,  or  partner 
— I  do  not  know  which  he  is — carried  off 
with  your  assistance.  Do  not  let  me  disturb 
you.  *  I  should,  on  the  contrary,  be  delight- 
ed to  learn  what  you  intend  doing  with  that 
unhappy  young  creature." 

No  words  could  render  the  feelipg  of 
stupor  and  terror  which  seized  on  the  three- 
partners  at  this  crushing  revelation  of 
their  plans.  When  they  fancied  they  had 
completely  concealed  them  by  their  cunning 
and  skill,  to  see  them  thus  suddenly  unvail- 
ed  in  all  their  extent  by  a  man  they  did  not 
know,  b.ut  who  knew  them,  and  in  con- 
sequence was  their  enemy — this  terrified 
them  to  such  a  degree  that  for  a  moment 
they  fancied  they  had  to  do  with  the  spirit 
of  evil.  The  two  Mexicans  crossed  them- 
selves simultaneously,  while  the  squatter 
uttered  a  hoarse  exclamation  of  rage. 

But  Red  Cedar  and  Fray  Ambrosio  were 
men  too  hardened  in  iniquity  for  any  event, 
however  grave  in  its  nature,  to  crush  them 
for  long.  The  first  moment  past,  they  re- 
covered themselves,  and  amazement  gave 
way  to  fury.  The  monk  drew  from  his 
boot  a  knife,  and  posted  himself  before  the 
door  to  prevent  egress ;  while  Red  Cedar, 
with  frowning  brow  and  a  dagger  in  his 
hand,  advanced  resolutely  toward  the  table, 
behind  which  their  bold  adversary,  standing 
with  folded  arms,  seemed  to  defy  them  by 
his  ironical  smile. 

"  Whoever  you  may  be,"  Red  Cedar  said, 
stopping  two  paces  from  his  opponent, 
"  chance  has  made  you  master  of  a  secret 
that  kills,  and  you  shall  die." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  I  owe  a 
knowledge  of  your  secrets  to  chance?"  the 
other  said  with  a  mocking  accent. 

"Defend  yourself,  Red  Cedar  howled 
furiously,  "  if  you  do  not  wish. me  to  assas- 
sinate you ;  for,  I  shall  not  hesitate,  I  warn 
you." 

"I  know  it,"  the  stranger  replied  quietly. 
"  I  shall  not  be  the  first  person  to  whom 
that  has  happened :  the  Sierra  Madre  have 
often  heard  the  agonizing  cries  of  your  vic- 
tims, when  Indians  were  wanting  to  nil  up 
your  number  of  scalps." 

At  this  allusion  to  Iris  frightful  trade  the 
squatter  felt  a  livid  pallor  cover  his  face,  a 
tremor  agitated  all  his  limbs,  and  he  yell- 
ed in  a  choking  voice  : 

"You  lie!    1  am  a  hunter." 

"Of  scalps,"  the  stranger  immediately 
retorted,  "unless  you  have  given  up  that 
lucrative  and  honorable  profession  since 
your  last  expedition  to  the  village  of  the 
Coras." 

"Oh!"  the  squatter  shouted  with  an  in- 


THE  PRIEST  MARKED. 


describable  burst  of  fury,  "he  is  a  coward 
who  hides  his  face  while  uttering  such 
words." 

The  stranger  shrugged  his  shoulders  con- 
temptuously, and  let  the  folds  of  his  mantle 
fall  sharply. 

"  Do  you  not  recognize  me,  Red  Cedar, 
since  your  conscience  has  not  yet  whispered 
my  name  to  you?" 

"  Oh  !"  the  three  men  exclaimed  in  hor- 
ror, and  instinctively  recoiling,  "  Don  Pablo 
de  karate!" 

"Yes,"  the  young  man  continued,  "Don 
Pablo  who  has  come,  Red  Cedar,  to  ask  of 
you  an  account  of  his  sister,  whom  you 
carried  off." 

Red  Cedar  was  in  a  state  of  extraordinary 
agitation  :  with  eyes  dilated  by  terror,  and 
contracted  features,  he  felt  the  cold  perspir- 
ation beading  on  his  temples  at  this  unex- 
pected apparition. 

"  Ah  !"  he  said  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  do  the 
dead,  then,  leave  the  tomb  ?" 

"  Yes,"  the  young  man  shouted  loudly, 

they  leave  their  tomb  to  tear  your  victims 

om  you.  Red  Cedar,  restore  me  my  sister !" 

The  squatter  leaped  like  a  hyena  on  the 
.ng  man,  brandishing  his  knife. 
Dog  !"  he  yelled,  "  I  will  kill  you  a  sec- 
ond time." 

But  his  wrist  was  suddenly  seized  by  a 
hand  of  iron,  and  the  bandit  tottered  back 
to  the  walls  of  the  raucho,  against  which  he 
was  forced  to  lean,  lest  he  should  roll  on 
the  ground.  Curumilla,  who  had  hitherto 
remained  an  impassive  witness  of  the  scene 
that  took  place  before  him,  thought  the  mo- 
ment for  interference  had  arrived,  and  had 
sharply  hurled  him  back.  The  squatter,  with 
blood-shot  eyes,  and  lips  clenched  by  rage, 
looked  around  him  with  glaring  worthy  or  a 
wild  beast.  Fray  Ambrosio  and  the  ranch- 
ero,  held  in  check  by  the  Indian  chief,  did 
not  dare  to  interfere.  Don  Pablo  walked 
with  a  slow  and  measured  step  toward  the 
bandit.  When  he  was  ten  paces  from  him 
he  stopped,  and  looked  fixedly  at  him. 

"Red  Cedar,"  he  repeated  in  a  calm  voice, 
*'  give  me  back  my  sister." 

"  Never !"  the  squatter  answered  in  a  voice 
choked  by  rage. 

In  the  mean  while  the  monk  and  Andres 
had  treacherously  approached  the  young- 
man,  watching  for  the  propitious  moment  to 
fall  on  him.  The  five  men  assembled  in 
this  room  offered  a  strange  and  sinister  scene 
by  the  uncertain  light  that  filtered  through 
the  windows,  as  each  stood  with  his  baud 
on  his  weapon,  ready  to  kill  or  be  killed, 
and  only  waiting  the  opportunity  to  rush  on 
his  enemy.  There  was  a  moment  of  su- 
preme silence.  Assuredly  these  men  were 
brave.  In  many  circumstances  they  had 
seen  death  under  every  aspect ;  and  yet 
their  hearts  beat  as  if  to  burst  their  breasts, 
for  they  knew  that  the  combat  about  to 
commence  between  them  was  without  truce 
or  mercy.  At  length  Don  Pablo  spoke  again. 


"Take  care,  Red  Cedar,"  he  said.  "I 
have  come  to  meet  you  alone  and  honorably. 
1  have  asked  you  for  my  sister  several  times,, 
and  you  have  not  answered  ;  so  take  care." 

"  i"  will  sell  your  sister  to  the  Apaches  !"' 
the  squatter  howled.  "  As  for  you,  accursed 
one,  you  shall  not  leave  this  room  alive." 

"  The  sconndrel  is  mad  !"  the  young  man 
said  contemptuously. 

He  fell  back  a  pace,  and  then  stopped. 

"  Listen,"  he  continued.  "  I  will  now  re- 
tire, but  we  shall  meet  again;  and  woe  to 
youthen,  for  I  shall  be  as  pitiless  to  you 
as  you  have  been  to  me.  Farewell !" 

"Oh!  you  shall  not  go  in  that  way,  my 
master,"  replied  the  squatter,  who  had  re- 
gained all  his  boldness  and  impudence. 
' '  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  would  kill  you '?' ' 

The  young  man  fixed  upon  him  a  glance  of 
uudefinable  expression,  and  crossed  his  arms 
boldly  on  his  chest. 

"Try  it,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  rendered 
harsh  by  the  fury  boiling  in  his  heart. 

Red  Cedar  uttered  a  yell  of  rage,  and 
bounded  on  Don  Pablo.  The  latter  calmly 
awaited  the  attack;  but,  so  soon  as  the 
squatter  was  within  reach,  he  suddenly  took 
off  his  mantle,  and  threw  it  over  his  enemy'? 
head,  who,  blinded  by  the  folds  of  the  thick 
garment,  rolled  about  on  the  ground,  un- 
able to  free  himself  from  the  accursed  cloth 
that  held  him  like  a  net.  With  one  bound 
the  young  man  was  over  the  table,  and 
troubling  himself  no  further  about  Red  Ce- 
dar, proceeded  toward  the  door. 

At  this  moment  Fray  Ambrosio  rushed 
upon  him,  trying  to  bury  his  knife  in  his 
chest.  Feeling  not  the  slightest  alarm,  Don 
Pablo  seized  his  assailant's  wrist,  and  with  a 
strength  he  was  far  from  anticipating,  twist- 
ed his  arm  so  violently  that  his  fingers  open- 
ed, and  he  let  the  knife  fall  with  a  yell  of 
pain.  Don  Pablo  picked  it  up,  and  seized 
the  monk  by  the  throat. 

"Listen,  villain !"  he  said  to  him.  "I 
am  master  of  your  life.  You  betrayed  my 
father,  who  took  pity  on  you,  and  received 
you  into  his  house.  You  dishonor  the  gowii 
you  wear  by  your  connection  with  criminals, 
whose  ill  deeds  you  share  in.  I  could  kill 
you,  and  perhaps  ought  to  do  so;  but  it 
would  be  robbing  the  executioner  to  whom 
you  belong,  and  cheating  the  garrote  which 
awaits  you.  This  gown,  of  which  you  are 
unworthy,  saves  your  life ;  but  I  will  mark 
you.  so  that  you  shall  never  forget  me." 

And  placing  the  point  of  the  knife  on  the 
monk's  face,  he  made  two  gashes  in  the 
shape  of  a  cross. 

"  We  shall  meet  again!"  he  added,  in  a 
thundering  voice,  as  he  threw  the  knife 
away  in  disgust. 

Andres  Garote  hud  not  dared  to  make  a 
move :  terror  nailed  him  motionless  to  the 
ground  beneath  the  implacable  eye  of  the 
Indian  warrior.  Don  Pablo  and  Curumilla 
then  rushed  from  the  room  and  disappeared, 
and  ere  long  the  hoofs  of  two  horses  depart* 


THE  TRAIL-HVNTEM. 


ing  at  full  speed  from  the  town  could  be 
heard  clattering  over  the  pavement. 

By  the  aid  of  the  ranchero  Red  Cedar 
prtsently  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  from 
the  folds  of  the  cloak  that  embarrassed  him. 
When  the  three  accomplices  found  them- 
selvea  alone  again  an  expression  of  impotent 
rage  and  deadly  hatred  distorted  their  faces. 

"Oh!"  the  squatter  muttered,  grinding 
his  teeth,  and  raising  his  fist  to  heaven,  u  1 
will  bo  revenged." 

"And  I  too,"  said  Fray  Ambrosio  in  a 
holl  sw  voice,  as  he  wiped  away  the  blood 
thar.  stained  his  face. 

"Sim!  I  do  not  care,"  Andres  Garote 
said  10  himself  aside.  "That  family  of  the 
Zaratw*  is  a  fine  one ;  but,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  Don  Pablo  is  a  rough  fellow." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  HUNTERS. 

AT  about  two  leagues  from  Santa  F6,  in  a 
clearing  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
which  borders  that  town,  and  on  the  eve- 
ning of  the  same  day,  a  man  was  seated  be- 
fore a  large  tire,  which  he  carefully  kept  up, 
while  actively  engaged  in  making  prepara- 
tions for  supper.  A  frugal  meal,  at  any  rate, 
this  supper !  It  was  composed  of  a  buffalo- 
hump,  a  few  potatoes,  and  maize  tortillas 
baked  on  the  ashes,  the  whole  washed 
down  with  pulque. 

The  night  was  gloomy.  Heavy  black 
clouds  coursed  athwart  the  sky,  at  times 
intercepting  the  sickly  rays  of  the  moon, 
which  only  shed  an  uncertain  light  over 
the  landscape,  which  was  itself  buried  in 
one  of  those  dense  mists  that,  in  equatorial 
countries,  exhale  from  the  ground  after  a 
hot  day.  The  wind  blew  violently  through 
the  trees,  whose  branches  came  in  contact, 
with  plaintive  moans;  and  in  the  depths 
of  the  woods  the  miawling  of  the  wild- 
cats was  mingled  with  the  snarl  of  the  co- 
yotes and  the  howls  of  the  pumas  and  jag- 
uars.  All  at  once  the  sound  of  galloping 
horses  could  be  heard  in  the  forest,  and  two 
riders  burst  into  the  clearing.  On  seeing 
them  the  hunter  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
joy,  and  hurried  to  meet  them.  They  were 
Don  Pablo  and  Curumilla. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  lie  said.  "Here 
you  are  at  last.  I  was  beginning  to  grow 
alarmed  at  your  long  absence." 

"  You  see  that  nothing  has  happened  to 
7ne,"  the  young  man  answered,  affectionate- 
ly pressing  the  hunter's  hands. 

Don  Pablo  had  dismounted,  and  hobbled 
his  own  horse  and  Curumilla's  near  Valen- 
tine's, while  the  Indian  chief  busied  himself 
in  preparing  the  supper. 

"Corne,  come,"  the  hunter  said,  gayly, 
"  to  table.  You  must  be  hungry,  and  1  am 
dying  of  hunger.  You  can  tell  me  all  that 
has  occurred  while  we  are  eating." 


The  three  men  went  to  tho  table ;  that  !»„ 
they  seated  themselves  on  the  grass  in 
front  of  the  fire,  and  vigorously  assailed 
their  meager  repast. 

"  Now,"  Valentine  asked  presently,  "what 
have  you  done  ?  I  fancy  you  remained 
much  longer  than  was  necessary  in  that  ac- 
cursed town." 

"  We  did,  my  friend.  Certain  reasons 
forced  me  to  remain  longer  than  I  had  first 
intended." 

"Proceed  in  regular  order,  if  you  have  DO 
objection.  I  fancy  that  is  the  only  way  of 
understanding  each  other." 

"Act  as  you  please,  my  friend." 

"Very  good:  the  chief  and  I  will  light 
our  pipes  while  you  make  your  cigarette. 
We  will  sit  with  our  backs  to  the  fire,  so  as 
to  watch  the  neighborhood,  and  in  that  way 
can  converse  without  apprehension.  What 
do  you  say,  Pablo  ?" 

"  You  are  always  right,  my  friend.  Your 
inexhaustible  gayety,  your  honest  careless- 
ness, restore  me  all  my  courage,  and  imfcf1 
me  quite  a  different  man." 

"  Hum  !"  Valentine  said,  "I  am  glad  to 
hear  you  speak  so.  The  position  is  serious, 
it  is  true ;  but  it  is  far  from  being  desperate. 
The  chief  and  I  have  many  times  been  in 
situations  where  our  lives  only  depended  on 
a  thread ;  and  yet  we  always  emerged  from 
them  honorably — did  we  not,  chief  ?" 

"Yes,"  the  Indian  answered,  laconically, 
drawing  in  a  mouthful  of  smoke,  which  he 
sent  forth  again  from  mouth  and  nostrils. 

"  But  that  is  not  the  question  of  the  mo- 
ment. I  have  sworn  to  save  your  father  and 
sister,  Pablo,  and  will  do  so,  or  my  carcass 
shall  be  food  for  the  wild  beasts  of  the  prai- 
rie ;  so  leave  me  to  act.  Have  you  seen 
Father  Seraphin  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have.  Our  poor  friend  is  still 
very  weak  and  pale,  and  his  wound  is  scarce 
healed.  Still,  paying  no  heed  to  his  suf- 
ferings, and  deriving  strength  from  his  un- 
bounded devotion  to  humanity,  he  has  done 
all  we  agreed  on.  For  the  last  week  he  has 
only  left  my  father  to  hasten  to  his  judges. 
He  has  seen  the  General,  the  Governor,  the 
Bishop — everybody,  in  short — and  has  neg- 
lected nothing.  Unfortunately  all  his  ex- 
ertions have  hitherto  been  fruitless." 

"  Patience !"  the  hunter  said,  with  a  smile 
of  singular  meaning. 

"  Father  Seraphin  believes  for  certain 
that  my  father  will  be  shot  within  two  days. 
The  Governor  wishes  to  have  done  with  it — 
that  is  the  expression  he  employed :  and 
Father  Seraphin  told  mo  that  we  have  not  a 
moment  to  lose." 

"Two  days  arc  a  long  time,  my  friend: 
before  they  have  elapsed  many  things  may 
have  occurred." 

"That  is  true;  but  my  father's  life  if,  at 
stake,  and  I  feel  timid." 

"  Good,  Don  Pablo ;  I  like  to  hear  you 
speak  so.  But  reassure  yourself :  all  i»  go- 
ing on  well,  I  repeat." 


BOLD,  BUI  EASH. 


1,  my  friend,  I  believe  It  would  bo 
wise  to  take  certain  precautions.  Remem- 
ber it  is  a  question  of  life  or  death,  and  we 
must  make  haste.  How  many  times,  under 
similar  circumstances,  have  the  best-arranged 
plans  failed  !  Do  you  think  that  your  meas- 
ures are  well  taken  ?  Do  you  not  fear  lest 
an  unhappy  accident  may  derange  all  your 
plans  at  the  decisive  moment?" 

"  We  are  playing  at  this  moment  a  deep 
game,  my  friend,"  Valentine  answered. 
"  We  have  chance  on  our  side ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  greatest  power  that  exists,  and 
which  governs  the  world." 

The  young  man  lowered  his  head,  as  if  but 
slightly  convinced.  The  hunter  regarded 
him  for  a  moment  with  a  mixture  of  in- 
terest and  tender  pity,  and  then  continued 
in  a  soothing  voice : 

"Listen,  Don  Pablo  de  Zarate,"  he  Raid. 
"I  have  said  that  I  will  save  your  father, 
and  mean  to  do  so.  Still  I  wish  him  to 
leave  the  prison  in  which  he  now  is,  like  a 
man  of  his  character  ought  to  leave  it,  in 
open  day,  greeted  by  the  applause  of  the 
crowd,  and  not  by  escaping  furtively  during 
the  night,  like  a  Vile  criminal.  Hang  it  all! 
do  you  think  it  would  have  been  difficult 
for  me  to  enter  the  town,  and  effect  your 
father's  escape  by  filing  the  bars  or  bribing 
the  jailer?  I  would  not  do  it.  Don  Miguel 
would  not  have  accepted  that  cowardly  "and 
shameful  flight.  Your  father  shall  le,ave  his 
prison,  but  begged  to  do  so  by  the  Gover- 
nor himself,  and  all  the  authorities  of  Santa 
F6.  So  regain  your  courage,  and  no  longer 
doubt  a  man  whose  friendship  and  experi- 
ence should,  on  the  contrary,  restore  your 
confidence." 

The  young  man  had  listened  to  these  words 
•with  ever  increasing  interest.  When  Valen- 
tine ceased  speaking  he  seized  his  hand. 

"Pardon  me,  my  friend,"  he  answered 
him.  "I  know  how  devoted  you  are  to 
my  family ;  but  I  suffer,  and  grief  renders 
me  unjust.  Forgive  me." 

"  Child,  let  us  forget  it  all.  Was  the  town 
quiet  to-day  ?" 

"  I  can  not  tell  you,  for  I  was  so  absorbed 
in  thought  that  I  saw  nothing  going  on 
around  me.  Still  I  fancy  there  was  a  certain 
agitation,  which  was  not  natural,  on  the 
Plaza  Mayor,  near  the  Governor's  palace." 

Valentine  indulged  once  again  in  that 
strange  smile  that  had  already  played  round 
the  corners  of  his  delicate  lips. 

"  Good !"  he  said.  "  And  did  you,  as  I  ad- 
vised, try  to  gain  any  information  about  Red 
Cedar?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  with  a  start  of  joy, 
"I  did;  and  I  have  positive  news." 

"Ah,  ah!    How  so?" 

"I  will  tell  you." 

And  Don  Pablo  described  the  scene  that 
had  taken  place  in  the  rancho.  The  hunter 
.listened  to  it  with  the  utmost  attention, 
and  when  it  was  finished  he  tossed  his  head 
.with  an  air  of  dissatisfaction. 


"  All  young  people  are  so,"  he  muttered  : 
"they  always  allow th«ir  passions  to  carry 
them  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason.  You 
were  wrong,  extremely  wrong,  Don 
Pablo,"  he  then  added.  "Red  Cedar  be- 
lieved you  dead,  and  that  might  have  been 
of  great  use  to  us  presently.  You  do  not 
know  the  immense  power  that  demon  has 
at  his  disposal:  all  the  bandits  on  the  fron- 
tier are  devoted  to  him.  Your  outbreak 
will  be  most  injurious  to  your  sister's  safety." 

"  Still,  my  friend— " 

"  You  acted  like  a  madman  in  arousing 
the  slumbering  fury  of  a  tiger.  Red  Cedar 
will  persist  in  destroying  you.  I  have  known 
the  wretch  for  a  long  time.  But  that  is  not 
the  worst  you  have  done." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  Why,  madman  as  you  are,  instead  of 
keeping  dark,  watching  your  enemies  with- 
out saying  a  word — in  short,  seeing  through 
their  "game — by  an  unpardonable  act  of 
bravado  you  have  unmasked  all  your  bat- 
teries." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  my  friend." 

"  Fray  Ambrosio  is  a  villain  of  a  different 
stamp  from  Red  Cedar,  it  is  true;  but  I  con- 
sider him  even  a  greater  scoundrel  than  the 
scalp-hunter.  At  any  rate,  the  latter  is 
purely  a  rogue,  and  you  know  what  to  ex- 
pect from  him:  all  about  him  bears  the 
stamp  of  his  hideous  soul.  Had  you  stabbed 
that  wild  beast,  who  perspires  blood  by 
every  pore,  and  dreams  of  naught  but  mur- 
der, I  might  possibly  have  pardoned  you ; 
but  you  have  completely  failed,  not  only  in 
prudence,  but  in  good  sense,  by  acting  as 
you  have  done  with  Fray  Ambrosio.  That 
man  is  a  hypocrite.  He  owes  all  to  your 
family,  and  is  furious  at  seeing  his  treachery 
discovered.  Take  care,  Don  Pablo.  You 
have  made  at  one  blow  two  implacable  en- 
emies :  the  more  terrible  now  because  they 
have  nothing  to  guard  against." 

"  It  is  true,"  the  young  man  said ;  "1  act- 
ed like  a  fool.  But  what  would  you?  At 
the  sight  of  those  two  men,  when  I  heard 
from  their  very  lips  the  crimes  they  had 
committed,  and  those  they  still  meditate 
against  us,  I  was  no  longer  master  of  my- 
self. I  entered  -the  rancho,  and  you  know 
the  rest." 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  cuchillada  was  a  fine  one. 
Certainly  the  bandit  deserved  it ;  but  I  fear 
lest  the  cross  you  so  smartly  drew  on  hia 
face  will  cost  you  dearly  some  day." 

"  Well,  let  us  leave  it  in  the  hands  of 
heaven.  You  know  the  proverb,  '  It  is  bet- 
ter to  forget  what  can  not  be  remedied.' 
Provided  my  father  escape  the  fate  that  me- 
naces him,  I  shall  be  happy.  I  shall  take 
my  precautions  to  defend  myself." 

'  Did  you  learn  nothing  further?" 

"Yes:  Red  Cedar's  gambusinos  are  en- 
camped a  short  distance  from  us.  I  know 
that  their  chief  intends  starting  to-morrow 
at  the  latest." 

"  Oh,  oh !  already  ?    We  must  make  haste 


66 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


and  prepare  our  ambuscade,  ii    we  wish  to 
discover  the  road  they  mean  to  follow." 
"When  shall  we  start?" 
"At  once." 

The  three  men  made  their  preparations  ; 
the  horses  were  saddled,  the  small  skins  the 
horseman  always  carries  at  his  saddle-bow 
in  these  dry  countries  were  filled  with  water, 
and  live  minutes  later  the  hunters  mounted. 
At  the  moment  they  were  leaving  the  clear- 
ing a  rustling  of  leaves  was  heard,  the 
brunches  parted,  and  an  Indian  appeared. 
It  was  Unicorn,  the  great  sachem  of  the  Co- 
inanches.  On  seeing  him  the  three  men  dis- 
mounted and  waited.  Valentine  advanced 
alone  to  meet  the  Indian. 

"My  brother  is  welcome,"  he  said. 
"What  does  he  want  of  me  ?" 

"To  see  the  face  of  a  friend,"  the  chief 
answered,  in  a  gentle  voice. 

The  two  men  then  bowed  after  the  fashion 
of  the  prairie.  After  this  ceremony  Valen- 
tine went  on : 

"My  father  must  approach  the  fire,  and 
smoke  from  the  calumet  of  his  white 
friends." 

"I  will  do  so,"  Unicorn  answered. 
And  drawing  near  the  fire,  he  crouched 
down  in  Indian  fashion,  took  his  pipe  from 
his  belt,  and  smoked  in  silence.  The  hunt- 
ers, seeing  the  turn  this  unexpected  inter- 
view was  taking,  had  fastened  up  their  horses, 
and  seated  themselves  again  round  the  fire. 
A  few  minutes  passed  thus,  no  one  speaking, 
each  waiting  till  the  Indian  chief  should  ex- 
plain the  motive  of  his  coming.  At  length 
Unicorn  shook  the  ashes  from"  his  calumet, 
returned  it  to  his  belt,  and  addressed  Valen- 
tine. 

"  Is  my  brother  setting  out  to  hunt  buffa- 
loes  again  ?"  he  said.  "  There  are  many  this 
year  on  the  prairies  of  the  Rio  Gila." 

"  Yes,"  the  Frenchman  replied,  "we  are 
going  hunting.  Does  my  brother  intend 
to  accompany  us  ?" 

"  No ;  my  heart  is  sad." 
"  What  means  the  chief  ?     Has  any  mis- 
fortune happened  to  him  ?" 

"  Does  my  brother  understand  me,  or  am 
I  really  mistaken  ?  Is  it  that  my  brother 
only  really  loves  the  buffaloes,  whose  meat 
he  eats,  and  whose  hides  he  sells  at  the 
tolderia?" 

"Let  my  brother  explain  himself  more 
clearly ;  then  I  will  try  to  answer  him." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  The  In- 
dian seemed  to  be  reflecting  deeply :  his 
nostrils  were  dilated,  and  at  times  his 
black  eye  flashed  fire.  The  Imnters  calmly 
awaited  the  issue  of  this  conversation,  whose 
object  they  had  not  yet  caught.  At  length 
Unicorn  raised  his  head,  restored  all  the 
serenity  to  his  glance,  and  said  in  a  soft 
and  melodious  voice : 

"Why  pretend  not  to  understand  me, 
Koutonepi  ?  A  warrior  must  not  have  a 
"brked  tongue.  What  a  man  can  not  do 
alone,  two  can  attempt  and  carry  out.  Let 


my  brother  speak  :  the  ears  of  a  friend  are 
open." 

"  My  brother  is  right.  I  will  not  deceive 
his  expectations.  The  hunt  I  wish  to  make 
is  serious.  I  am  anxious  to  save  a  womau 
of  my  color ;  but  what  can  the  will  of  one 
man  effect?" 

"  Koutonepi  is  not  alone :  I  see.  at.  his  side 
the  best  two  rifles  of  the  frontier.  WThat 
does  the  white  hunter  tell  me?  Is  he  no 
longer  the  great  warrior  I  knew  ?  Does  h« 
doubt  the  friendship  of  his  brother  the  great 
sachem  of  the  Comanches  ?" 

"I  never  doubted  the  friendship  of  my 
brother.  I  am  an  adopted  son  of  his  nation. 
At  this  very  moment  is  he  not  seeking  to  do 
me  a  service?" 

"  That  service  is  only  half  what  I  wish  to 
do.  Let  my  brother  speak  the  word,  and 
two  hundred  Comanche  warriors  shall  join 
him  to  deliver  the  virgin  of  the  pale-faces, 
and  take  the  scalps  of  her  ravishers." 

Valentine  started  with  joy  at  this  noble 
offer. 

"Thanks,  chief,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "I 
accept;  and  I  know  that  v our  word  is  sa- 
cred." 

"Michabou  protects  us,"  the  Indian  said. 
"  My  brother  can  count  on  me.  A  chief 
does  not  forget  a  service.  I  owe  obligations 
to  the  pale  hunter,  and  I  will  deliver  to  him 
the  robbers." 

"Here  is  my  hand,  chief:  my  heart  has 
long  been  yours." 

"  My  brother  speaks  well.  I  have  done 
what  he  requested  of  me." 

And  bowing  courteously,  the  Comanche 
chief  withdrew  without  adding  a  word. 

"Don  Pablo,"  Valentine  exclaimed,  joy- 
ously, "lean  iK)\\ -guarantee  your  father's 
safety :  this  night — perhaps  to-morrow — he 
will  be  free." 

The  young  man  fell  into  the  hunter's  arms, 
and  hid  his' head  on  his  honest  chest,  not 
having  the  strength  to  utter  a  word.  A  few 
minutes  later  the  hunters  left  the  clearing 
to  go  in  search  of  the  gambusinos,  and  pre- 
pare their  ambuscade. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

SUNBEAM. 

WE  will  now  go  a  little  way  back,  in  order 
to  clear  up  certain  portions  of  the  conver- 
sation between  Valentine  and  Unicorn, 
whose  meaning  the  reader  can  not  have 
caught. 

Only  a  few  mouths  after  the  arrival  in 
Apacherla  the  Frenchman  and  Curumilla 
were  hunting  the  buffalo  on  the  banks  of  the 
Rio  Gila.  It  was  a  splendid  day  in  the 
mouth  of  July.  The  two  hunters," fatigued 
by  a  long  march  made  under  the  beams  of 
the  parching  sun,  that  fell  vertically  on  their 
heads,  had  sheltered  themselves  under  a 
clump  of  cedar-wood  trees,  and,  carelessly 


THE  CAYMAN. 


67 


§tretched  out  on  the  ground,  wcro  smoking 
while  waiting  until  the  great  heat  had  pus-.- 
ed,  and  the  evening  breeze  rose  to  enable 
them  to  continue  their  hunt.  A  quarter 
of  elk  was  roasting  for  their  dinner. 

"Eh,  penidr'>  Valentine  said,  addressing 
his  comrade,  and  rising  on  his  elbow,  "  the 
dinner  seems  to  be  ready :  so  suppose  we 
feed?  The  sun  is  rapidly  sinking  behind 
the  forest,  and  we  shall  soon  have  to  start 
again." 
"  "  Eat,"  Curumilla  answered,  sharply. 

The  meat  was  laid  on  a  leaf  between  the 
two  hunters,  who  began  eating  with  good 
appetite.  Valentine  had  taken  a  third  bite 
when  he  stopped,  with  his  arm  raised  and 
his  head  bent  forward,  as  if  an  unusual  sound 
had  suddenly  smitten  his  ear.  Curumilla 
imitated  his  friend,  and  both  listened  with 
that  deep  attention  that  only  results  from  a 
lengthened  desert  life ;  for  on  the  prairie 
every  sound  is  suspicious — every  meeting  is 
feared,  especially  with  man. 

Some  time  elapsed  ere  the  noise  which 
startled  the  hunters  was  repeated.  For  a 
moment  they  fancied  themselves  deceived, 
and  Valentine  took  another  bite,  when  he 
was  again  checked.  This  time  he  had  dis- 
tinctly heard  a  sound  resembling  a  stifled 
sigh,  but  so  weak  and  hollow  that  it  needed 
the  Trail-Hunter's  practiced  ear  to  catch 
it.  Curumilla  himself  had  perceived  nothing. 
He  looked  at  his  friend  in  amazement,  not 
knowing  to  what  he  should  attribute  his 
state  of  agitation.  Valentine  rose  hurriedly, 
seized  his  rifle,  and  rushed  in  the  direction 
of  the  river,  his  friend  following  him  in  all 
haste. 

It  was  from  the  river,  in  fact,  that  the 
s;igh  heard  by  Valentine  had  come,  and  for- 
tunately it  was  but  a  few  paces  distant.  So 
soon  as  the  hunters  had  leaped  over  the  in- 
tervening bushes  they  found  themselves  on 
the  bank,  and  a  fearful  sight  presented  itself 
to  their  startled  eyes.  A  long  plank  was  de- 
scending the  river,  turning  on  its  axis,  and 
borne  by  the  current,  which  ran  rather 
strongly" at  this  point.  On  this  plank  was 
fastened  a  woman,  who  held  a  child  in  her 
clasped  arms.  Each  time  the  plank  revolved 
the  unhappy  woman  plunged  with  her  child 
in  the  stream,  and  at  ten  "yards  at  the  most 
from  it  an  enormous  cayman  was  swimming 
vigorously  to  snap  at  its  two  victims. 

valentine  raised  his  rifle.  Curumilla  at 
the  same  moment  glided  into  the  water, 
holding  his  knife-blade  between  his  teeth, 
and  swam  toward  the  plank.  Valentine  re- 
mained for  a  few  seconds  motionless,  as  if 
changed  into  a  block  of  marble.  All  at 
once  he  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the  discharge 
was  re-echoed  by  the  distant  mountains. 
The  cayman  leaped  out  of  the  water,  and 
plunged  down  again :  but  it  reappeared  a 
moment  later,  belly  upward.  It  was  dead. 
Valentine's  bullet  had  passed  through  its 
eye. 

In  the  mean  while  Curumilla  had  reached 


the  plank  with  a  few  strokes.  Without  loss 
of  time  he  turned  it  in  the  opposite  direction 
from  what  it  was  following;  and  while  hold- 
ing it  so  that  it  could  not  revolve,  he  push- 
ed it  on  the  sand.  In  two  itrokes  he  cut  the 
bonds  that  held  the  hapless  woman,  seized 
her  in  his  arms,  and  ran  off  with  her  to  the 
bivouac  lire. 

The  poor  woman  gave  no  signs  of  life, 
and  the  two  hunters  eagerly  sought  to  re- 
store her.  She  was  an  Indian,  apparently 
not  more  than  eighteen,  and  very  beautiful. 
Valentine  found  great  difficulty  in  loosening 
her  arms  and  removing  the  baby ;  for  the 
frail  creature,  about  a  year  old,  by  an  incom- 
prehensible miracle,  had  been  preserved — 
thanks,  doubtless,  to  its  mother's  devotion. 
It  smiled  pleasantly  at  the  hunter  when  he 
laid  it  tenderly  on  a  bed  of  dry  leaves. 

Curumilla  opened  the  woman's  mouth 
slightly  with  his  knife-blade,  placed  in  it 
the  mouth  of  his  gourd,  and  made  her 
swallow  a  few  drops  of  liquor.  A  long  time 
elapsed  ere  she  gave  the  slightest  move  that 
indicated  an  approaching  return  to  life.  The 
hunters,  however,  would  not  be  foiled  by 
the  ill-success  of  their  attentions,  but  re- 
doubled their  efforts.  At  length  a  deep  sigh 
burst  painfully  from  the  sufferer's  oppress- 
ed chest,  and  she  opened  her  eyes,  murmw- 
ing  in  a  voice  as  weak  as  a  breath, 

""My  child!" 

This  cry  of  the  soul — this  first  and  su- 
preme appeal  of  a  mother  on  the  verge  of 
the  tomb— affected  the  two  men  with  hearts 
of  bronze.  Valentine  cautiously  lifted  the 
child,  which  had  gone  to  sleep  peacefully  on 
the  leaves,  and  presented  it  to  the  mother, 
saying  in  a  soft  voice : 

"Mother,  he  lives!" 

At  these  words  which  restored  her  hope, 
the  woman  leaped  up  as  if  moved  by  a  spring, 
seized  the  child,  and  covered  it  with  kisses, 
as  she  burst  into  tears.  The  hunters  respect- 
ed this  outpouring  of  maternal  love :  they 
withdrew,  leaving  food  and  water  by  the 
woman's  side.  At  sunset  the  two  men  re- 
turned. The  woman  was  squatting  by  the 
fire,  nursing  her  child,  and  lulling  it  to  sleep 
by  singing  an  Indian  song.  The  night 
passed  tranquilly,  the  two  hunters  watching 
in  turn  over  the  slumbers  of  the  woman 
they  had  saved,  and  who  reposed  in  peace. 

At  sunrise  she  awoke ;  and  with  the  skill 
and  handiuess  peculiar  to  the  women  of  her 
race,  she  rekindled  the  fire  and  prepared 
breakfast.  The  two  men  looked  at  her  with 
a  smile,  then  threw  their  rifles  over  their 
shoulders,  and  set  out  in  search  of  game. 
When  they  returned  to  the  bivouac  the  meal 
was  ready.  After  eating,  Valentine  lit  his 
Indian  pipe,  seated  himself  at  the  foot  of 
a  tree,  and  addressed  the  young  woman. 

"What  is  my  sister's  name?''  he  asked. 

"Tonameyotl  (the  Sunbeam),"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  joyous  smile  that  revealed  the 
double  row  of  pearls  that  adorned  her 
month. 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


name,"  Valentine 
answered.  "She  doubtless  belongs  to  kthe 
great  nation  of  the  Apaches  ?" 

"  The  Apaches  are  dogs,"  she  said  in  a 
hollow  voice,  and  with  a  flash  of  hatred  in 
her  glance.  "  The  Coraanche  women  will 
weave  them  petticoats.  The  Apaches  are 
cowardly  as  coyotes :  they  only  tight  a  hun- 
dred aga'inst  one.  The  Coinanche  Avarriors 
are  like  the  tempest." 

"  Is  my  sister  the  wife  of  a  chief?" 

"Where  is  the  warrior  who  does  not 
know  Unicorn  ?"  she  said  proudly. 

Valentine  bowed.  He  had  already  heard 
the  name  of  this  terrible  chief  pronounced 
several  times.  Mexicans  and  Indians,  trap- 
pers, hunters,  and  warriors,  all  felt  for  him 
a  respect  mingled  with  terror. 

"Sunbeam  is  Unicorn's  wife,"  the  Indian 
girl  continued. 

"Good!"  Valentine  answered.  "My  sis- 
ter will  tell  me  where  to  lind  the  village  of 
her  tribe,  and  I  will  lead  her  back  to  the 
chief." 

The  young  woman  smiled. 

"I  have  in  my  heart  a  small  bird  that  sings 
at  every  instant  of  the  day,"  she  said  in  her 
gentle  and  melodious  voice.  "The  swallow 
can  not  live  without  its  mate,  and  the  chief 
is  on  the  trail  of  the  Sunbeam." 

"We  will  await  the  chief  here,  then," 
Valentine  said. 

The  hunter  felt  great  pleasure  in  convers- 
ing with  this  simple  child. 

'*  How  was  my  sister  thus  fastened  to  the 
trunk  of  a  tree  and  thrown  into  the  cur- 
rent of  the  Gila,  to  perish  there  with  her 
child  ?  It  is  an  atrocious  vengeance." 

"Yes,  it  is  the  vengeance  of  au  Apache 
dog,"  she  answered.  "  Aztatl  (the  Heron), 
daughter  of  Stanapat,  the  great  chief  of  the 
Apaches,  loved  Unicorn — her  heart  bounded 
at  the  mere  name  of  the  great  Comanche 
warrior;  but  the  chief  of  my  nation  has 
only  one  heart,  and  it  belongs  to  Sunbeam. 
Two  days  ago  the  warriors  of  my  tribe  set 
out  for  a  great  buffalo-hunt,  and  the  squaws 
alone  remained  in  the  village.  While  I  slept 
in  my  hut,  four  Apache  thieves,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  my  slumber,  seized  me  and  my 
child,  and  delivered  us  into  the  hands  of 
Stanapat' s  daughter.  4  You  love  your  hus- 
band,' she  said  to  me  with  a  grin :  '  you 
doubtless  suffer  at  being  separated  from  him. 
Be  happy :  I  will  send  you  to  him  by  the 
shortest  road.  He  is  hunting  on  the  prairies 
down  the  river,  and  in  two  hours  you  will 
be  in  his  arms,  unless,'  she  added  with  a 
langh,  '  the  caymans  stop  you  on  the  road.' 
'  The  Comanche  woman  despises  death,'  I 
answered  her.  '  For  a  hair  you  pluck  from 
me,  Unicorn  will  take  the  scalps  of  your 
whole  tribe ;  so  act  as  you  think  proper;' 
and  I  turned  my  head  away,  resolved  to  an- 
swer her  no  more.  She  herself  fastened  rne 
to  the  log,  with  my  face  turned  to  the  sky, 
in  order,  as  she  said,  that  I  might  see  my 
road ;  and  then  she  hurled  me  into  the  river, 


yelling,  '  Unicorn  is  a  cowardly  rabbit, 
whom  the  Apache  women  despise.  This  is- 
how  I  revenge  myself.'  I  have  told  my 
brother,  the  pale  hunter,  every  thing  as  it- 
happened." 

"My  sister  is  a  brave  woman,"  Valentine 
replied :  "  she  is  worthy  to  be  the  wife  of  a 
renowned  chief." 

The  young  mother  smiled  as  she  embrac- 
ed her  child,  which  she  presented,  with  a 
movement  full  of  grace,  to  the  hunter,  who 
kissed  it  on  the  forehead.  At  this  moment 
the  song  of  the  maukawis  was  heard  at  a 
short  distance  off.  The  two  hunters  raised 
their  heads  in  surprise,  and  looked  around 
them. 

"  The  quail  sings  very  late,  I  fancy,"  Val- 
entine muttered  suspiciously. 

The  Indian  girl  smiled  as  she  looked  down, 
but  g£ve  no  answer.  Suddenly  a  slight 
cracking  of  dry  branches  disturbed  the  si- 
lence. Valentine  and  Curumilla  made  a 
move,  as  if  to  spring  up  and  seize  their  rifles 
that  lay  by  their  side. 

"  My  brothers  must  not  stir,"  the  squaw 
said  quickly :  "  it  is  a  friend." 

The  hunters  remained  motionless,  and  the 
girl  then  imitated  with  rare  perfection  the 
cry  of  the  blue  jay.  The  bushes  parted,  and 
an  Indian  warrior,  perfectly  painted  and 
armed  for  wrar,  bounded  like  a  jackal  over 
the  grass  and  herbs  that  obstructed  his  pas- 
sage, and  stopped  in  face  of  the  hunters. 
IVe  warrior  was  Unicorn.  He  saluted  the 
two  men  with  that  grace  innate  in  the  Indian 
race;  then  he  crossed  his  arms  on  his  breast 
and  waited,  without  taking  a  glance  at  his 
squaw,  or  even  appearing  to  have  seen  her. 
On  her  side  the  Indian  woman  did  not 
stir. 

During  several  moments  a  painful  silence 
fell  on  the  four  persons  whom  chance  had 
brought  together  in  so  strange  a  way.  At 
length  Valentine,  seeing  that  tne  warrior 
insisted  on  being  silent,  decided  he  would 
be  the  first  to  speak. 

"Unicorn  is  welcome  to  our  camp,"  he 
said.  "  Let  him  take  a  seat  by  the  tire  of 
his  brothers,  and  share  with  them  the  pro- 
visions they  possess." 

"  I  will  take  a  seat  by  the  fire  of  my  pale- 
face brother,"  he  replied;  "but  he  must 
first  answer  me  a  question  I  wish  to  ask 
him." 

"My  brother  can  speak:  my  ears  are 
open." 

"  Good  !"  the  chief  answered.  "  How  is 
it  the  hunters  have  with  them  Unicorn's 
wife  ?" 

"Sunbeam  can  answer  that  question 
best,"  Valentine  said,  gravely. 

The  chief  turned  to  his  squaw. 

"  I  am  waiting,"  he  remarked. 

The  Indian  woman  repeated,  word  for 
word,  to  her  husband  the  story  she  had  told 
a  few  minutes  before.  Unicorn  listened 
•without  evincing  either  surprise  or  wrath  ; 
liia  face  remained  impassive,  but  his  bro\vs 


IRE  COMANCHE  VILLAGE. 


were  Imperceptibly  contracted.  When  the 
woman  had  finished  speaking  the  Comanchc 
bowed  his  head  ou  his  chest,  and  remained 
for  a  moment  plunged  in  serious  thought. 
Presently  he  raised  his  head. 

"Who  saved  Sunbeam  from  the  river 
when  she  was  about  to  perish  ?"  lie  asked 
her. 

The  young, woman's  face  was  lit  up  with  a 
charming  smile. 

"  These  hunters,"  she  replied. 

"  Good!"  the  chief  said,  laconically,  as  he 
beut  on  the  two  men  a  glance  full   of   the 
tit  unspeakable  gratitude. 
Could  we  leave  her  to  perish  ?"  Valen- 
tine said. 

"My  brothers  did  well.  Unicorn  is  one 
of  the  first  sachems  of  his  nation.  His 
tongue  is  not  forked :  he  gives  his  heart 
once,  and  takes  it  back  no  more.  Unicorn's 
heart  belongs  to  the  hunters." 

These  simple  words  were  uttered  with 
the  majesty  and  grandeur  the  Indians  know 
so  well  how  to  assume  when  they  think 
proper.  The  two  men  vowed  their  gratitude, 
and  the  chief  continued  : 

"  Unicorn  is  returning  to  his  village  with 
his  wife :  his  young  men  are  awaiting  him 
twenty  paces  from  here.  He  would  be  hap- 
py if  the  hunters  would  consent  to  accom- 
pany him  there." 

"Chief,"  Valentine  answered,  "  we  came 
into  the  prairie  to  hunt  the  buffalo." 

"Well,  what  matter?  My  brothers  will 
hunt  with  me  and  my  young  men;  but  if 
they  wish  to  prove  to  me  that  they  accept 
my  friendship,  they  will  follow  me  to  my 
village." 

"The  chief  is  mounted,  while  we  are  on 
foot." 

"I have  horses." 

Any  further  resistance  would  have  been 
a  brekch  of  politeness,  and  the  hunters  ac- 
cepted the  invitation.  Valentine,  whom  ac- 
cident had  brought  out  to  the  prairies  of 
the  Rio  Gila  and  Del  Norte,  was  in  his  heart 
not  sorry  to  make  friends  there,  and  have 
allies  on  whose  support  he  could  reckon  in 
case  of  need.  The  squaw  had  by  this  time 
risen :  she  timidly  approached  her  husband, 
and  held  up  the  child,  saying  ,in  a  soft  and 
frightened  voice: 

"Kiss  this  warrior." 

The  chief  took  the  frail  creature  in  his 
muscular  arms,  and  kissed  it  repeatedly  with 
;i  display  of  extraordinary  tenderness,  and 
then  returned  it  to  the  mother.  The  latter 
wrapped  the  babe  in  a  small  blanket,  then 
placed  it  ou  a  plank  shaped  like  a  cradle,  and 
covered  with  dry  moss,  fastened  a  hoop  over 
the  place  where  its  head  rested,  to  guard  it 
from  the  burning  beams  of  the  sun,  and 
hung  the  whole  on  her  back  by  means  of  a 
woolen  strap  passing  over  her  forehead. 

"I  am  ready,"  she  said. 

11  Let  us  go,"  the  chief  replied. 

The  hunters  followed  him  and  they  were 
soon  on  the  prairio. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  ADOPTION. 

SOME  Hxty  Comanche  warriors  were  ly- 
ing in  the  grass  awaiting  their  sachem, 
while  their  tethered  horses  were  nibbling 
the  tall  prairie  grasses  and  the  tree-shoots. 
It  could  be  seen"  at  the  first  glance  that  these 
men  were  picked  warriors,  selected  for  a 
dangerous  expedition.  From  the  heels  of 
all  dangled  live  or  six  wolf-tails — marks  of 
honor  which  only  renowned  warriors  have 
the  right  to  wear. 

On  seeing  their  chief  they  hurriedly  rostf 
and  leaped  into  their  saddles.  All  were 
aware  that  their  sachem's  wife  had  been 
carried  off,  and  the  object  of  their  expedi- 
tion was  to  deliver  her.  Still,  on  noticing 
her,  they  evidenced  no  surprise,  but  saluted 
her  as  if  she  had  left  them  only  a  few  mo- 
ments previously.  The  war-party  had  with 
it  several  horses,  which  the  chief  ordered  to 
be  given  to  his  squaw  and  his  new  friends : 
then,  at  a  signal  from  him,  the  whole  party 
started  at  full  speed,  for  the  Indians  know 
no  other  pace  than  the  gallop. 

After  about  two  hours'  ride  they  reacheti 
the  vicinity  of  the  village,  which  could  be 
smelt  some  time  before  reaching,  owing  to 
the  habit  the  Comanches  have  of  placing 
their  dead  on  scaffoldings  outside  the  vil- 
lages, where  they  molderaway:  these  scaf- 
foldings, composed  of  four  stakes  planted  in 
the  ground,  terminated  in  a  fork,  while  from 
poles  stuck  up  near  them  hung  skins  and 
other  offerings  made  by  the  Indians  to  the 
genius  of  good. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  village  a  number 
of  horsemen  were  assembled,  awaiting  the 
return  of  the  sachem.  So  soon  as  they  per- 
ceived him  they  burst  into  a  formidable  yell, 
and  rushed  forward  like  a  whirlwind,  shout- 
ing, firing  guns,  and  brandishing  their 
weapons.  "  Unicorn's  band  "ollowed  this  ex- 
ample, and  there  was  soot  i  most  extraor- 
dinary confusion. 

The  sachem  made  his  entry  into  the  village 
in  the  midst  of  shouts,  barking  of  dogs, 
and  shots;  in  short,  ha  was  accompanied  to 
the  square  by  an  indescribable  row.  On 
reaching  it  the  warriors  stopped.  Unicorn 
begged  the  hunters  to  dismount,  and  gui- 
ded them  to  his  cabin,  which  he  made  them 
enter  before  him. 

"  Now,"  he  said  to  them,  "  brothers,  you 
are  at  home  :  rest  in  peace,  eat  and  drink. 
This  evening  I  will  come  and  talk  with  you, 
and  make  you  a  proposal  which  I  sincerely 
hope  you  will  not  reject." 

The  two  hunters,  wearied  by  the  long 
ride  they  had  made,  fell  back  with  extreme 
satisfaction  on  the  beds  of  dried  leaves  which 
awaited  them. 

"Well,"  Valentine  asked  Curumilla, 
"  what  do  you  say  about  what  ia  happening 
to  us  ?" 

"It may  be  good." 

"Can  it- not?' 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"Yee." 

On  which  Cururnilla  fell  asleep,  and 
Valentine  soon  followed  his  example.  As 
he  had  promised,  toward  evening  Unicorn 
entered  the  cabin. 

"  Have  my  brothers  rested  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  Valentine  answered. 

"  Are  they  disposed  to  listen  to  me?" 

u  Speak,  chief  ;  we  are  listening." 

The  Comanche  sachem  then  squatted 
near  the  fire,  and  remained  for  several  min- 
utes, with  his  head  bent  forward  and  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  in  the  position  of 
a  man  who  is  reflecting'.  At  length  he 
raised  his  head,  stretched  forth  his  arm  as 
if  to  give  greater  authority  to  the  words  he 
was  about  to  utter,  and  began  thus : 

"Brother,  you  and  your  friend  are  two 
brave  warriors.  The  prairies  rejoice  at  your 
arrival  among  us ;  the  deer  and  the  buffa- 
loes fly  at  your  approach ;  for  your  arm  is 
strong,  and  your  eye  unerring.  Unicorn  is 
only  a  poor  Indian;  but  he  is  a  great  warrior 
among  the  Comanches,  and  a  much-feared 
chief  of  his  tribe.  You  have  saved  his  wife, 
Sunbeam,  whom  the  Apache  dogs  threw  into 
the  Gila,  and  whom  the  hideous  alligators 
were  preparing  to  devour.  Since  his  wife, 
the  joy  of  his  hearth,  and  his  son,  the  hope 
of  his  old  days,  have  been  restored  to  him, 
Unicorn  has  sought  in  his  heart  the  means 
to  prove  to  you  his  gratitude.  He  asked 
the  Chief  of  Life  what  he  could  do  to  attach 
you  to  him.  Unicorn  is  terrible  in  combat; 
he  has  the  heart  of  the  grizzly  bear  for  his 
enemies — he  has  the  heart  of  the  gazelle,  for 
those  he  loves." 

"Chief,"  Valentine  answered,  "the words 
you  utter  at  this  moment  amply  repay  us 
for  what  we  have  clone.  We  are  happy  to 
have  saved  the  wife  and  son  of  a  celebrated 
warrior:  our  reward  is  in  our  hearts,  and 
we  wish  for  no  other." 

The  chief  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  the  two  hunters  are  no 
longer  strangers  for  the  Comanches  :  they 
are  the  brothers  of  our  tribe.  During  their 
sleep  Unicorn  assembled  round  the  council- 
fire  the  chiefs  of  his  nation,  and  told  them 
what  has  passed.  The  chiefs  have  ranged 
themselves  on  Unicorn's  side,  and  have  or- 
dered him  to  make  known  to  the  hunters 
the  resolution  they  have  formed." 

"Speak,  then,  chief,"  Valentine  said,  "and 
believe  that  the  wishes  of  the  council  will 
be  commands  to  us." 

A  smile  of  joy  played  round  the  chiefs 
lips. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "This  is  what  was 
agreed  on  among  the  great  chiefs.  My  broth- 
ers the  hunters  will  be  adopted  by  the  tribe, 
and  be  henceforth  sons  of  the  great  Coman- 
che nation.  What  say  my  brothers  ?" 

A  lively  feeling  of  pleasure  made  Valen- 
tine quiver  at  this  unexpected  proposition. 
To  be  adopted  by  the  Comanche  tribe  was 
obtaining  the  right  of  hunting  over  the 
whole  extent  of  the  immense  prairies  which 


that  powerful  nation  holds  through  Its  in- 
domitable courage  and  the  number  of  its 
warriors.  The  hunter  exchanged  a  glance 
with  his  silent  comrade  and  rose. 

"I  accept  for  myself  and  friend,"  he  said, 
as  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the  chief,  "  the 
honor  the  Comanches  do  us  in  admitting  us 
into  the  number  of  the  sons  of  their  warlike 
nation.  We  shall  prove  ourselves  worthy 
of  this  marked  favor." 

Unicorn  smiled. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  as  he  rose,  "  my 
brothers  will  be  adopted  by  the  nation." 

After  bowing  gracefully  to  the  hunters  he 
took  leave  of  them  and  withdrew.  The  next 
daybreak  the  chiefs  entered  the  cabin.  Val- 
entine and  Curumilla  were  ready,  and  had 
long  been  acquainted  with  the  trials  they 
would  have  to  undergo.  They  were  conduct- 
ed into  the  great  medicine-hut,  where  a  co- 
pious meal  was  prepared.  It  consisted  of 
dog-meat  boiled  in  bear-fat,  tortillas,  maize, 
and  hautle  cakes.  The  chiefs  squatted  in  a 
circle,  while  the  squaws  waited  on  them. 

When  the  meal  was  ended  all  rose.  Uni- 
corn placed  himself  between  the  two  hunt- 
ers, laid  his  hands  on  their  heads,  and  struck 
up  the  great  war-song.  This  song  was  re- 
peated in  chorus  by  the  company  to  the 
sound  of  the  war-whistles  and  drums.  The 
following  is  the  translation  of  the  song  : 

"  Master  of  Life,  repard  ns  with  a  favorable  eye. 

We  are  receiving  two  brothors  in  arms  who  appear  to  have  sense. 

They  display  vijror  in  their  arms. 

They  fear  not  to  expose  their  boaies  to  ihe  blows  of  the  enomy." 

It  is  impossible  for  any  one  who  has  not 
been  present  at  the  ceremony  to  form  even  a 
distant  idea  of  the  frightful  noise  produced 
by  their  hoarse  voices  mingled  with  the  shrill 
and  discordant  instruments  ;  it  was  enough  to 
produce  a  deafness.  When  the  song  was  end- 
ed each  took  his  seat  by  the  council-fire. 

The  hunters  were  seated  on  beaver-skins, 
and  the  great  war-calumet  was  presented  to 
them,  from  which  each  took  several  puffs, 
and  it  went  the  round.  Unicorn  then  rose, 
and  fastened  round  the  neck  of  each  a  wam- 
pum collar,  and  another  made  of  the  claws 
of  the  grizzly  bear.  The  Indians,  during 
this  time,  had  built  near  the  medicine-lodge 
a  cabin  for  the  sweating,  and  when  it  was 
finished  the  hunters  took  off  their  clothes 
and  entered  it.  The  chiefs  then  brought 
two  large  stones  which  had  been  previously 
made  red-hot,  and  after  closing  the  hut 
carefully,  left  the  neophytes  in  it. 

The  latter  threw  water  on  the  stones,  and 
the  steam  which  arose  almost  immediately 
produced  a  perspiration.  When  this  was  at 
its  night  the  hunters  ran  out  of  the  hut, 
passed  through  the  double  row  of  warriors, 
and  leaped  into  the  river,  according  to  the 
usual  fashion.  They  were  immediately  drawn 
from  the  water,  wrapped  in  blankets,  and 
led  to  Unicorn's  hut,  in  order  to  undergo 
the  final  trial,  which  is  also  the  most  painful. 
The  hunters  were  laid  on  their  backs,  and 


TIIE  TATTOOING. 


then  Unicorn  traced  on  their  chests,  with  a 
stick  dipped  in  water  in  which  gunpowder 
bad  been  dissolved,  the  figure  of  the  animal 
serving  as  totem  ^protector)  to  the  tribe. 
Tben  with  two  spikes  fastened  to  a  small 
piece  of  wood,  and  dipped  in  vermilion,  he 
proceeded  to  prick  the  design. 

Whenever  I  nicorn  came  to  a  place  that 
was  too  hard  he  made  an  incision  in  the 
flesh  with  a  gun-flint.  The  places  that  were; 
not  marked  With  vermilion  were  rubbed  in 
with  powder,  so  that  the  result  was  a  red 
and  blue  tattooing.  During  the  course  uf 
this  operation  the  war-songs  and  chikikoues 
were  constantly  heard,  in  order  to  drown 
the  cries  which  the  atrocious  pain  might 
draw  from  the  patients  ;  but  the  latter  en- 
dured it  all  without  even  a  contraction  of 
the  eyebrows  evidencing  the  pain  that  must 
have  been  felt. 

When  the  tattooing  was  over  the  wound* 
were  cauterized  with  rotten-wood  to  prevent 
suppuration  :  then  they  were  washed  with 
cold  water,  in  which  had  been  infused  an 
herb  resembling  box,  a  great  deal  of  which 
the  Indians  mix  with  their  tobacco  to  re- 
duce its  strength.  The  trial  we  have  de- 
scribed is  so  painful  to  endure,  that  nearly 
always  it  is  only  accomplished  at  intervals, 
and  often  lasts  a  week.  This  time  the  hunt- 
ers endured  it  bravely  during  the  six  hours 
it  lasted,  not  uttering  a  cry,  or  giving  a  sign 
of  weakness.  Hence  the  Indians,  from  this 
moment,  regarded  them  with  a  species  of  re- 
spect: for  with  them  courage  is  the  first  of 
qualities. 

'"  My  brothers  are  children  of  the  tribe," 
the  chief  said,  offering  each  a  horse.  "  The 
prairie  belongs  to  them.  These  coursers" 
will  bear  them  to  the  most  remote  limits  of 
the  desert,  chasing  the  wild  beasts,  or  pursu- 
ing the  Apache  dogs." 

"  Good  !"  Valentine  answered. 

At  one  bound  the  two  hunters  were  in 
their  saddles,  and  made,  their  horses  per- 
form the  most  elegant  and  graceful  curvets. 
This  last  and  heroic  deed,  after  all  they  had 
suffered  during  the  course  of  the  day,  raised 
to  their  full  bight  the  joy  and  enthusiasm  of 
the  Comanches,  who  applauded  with  frenzi- 
ed shouts  and  yells  all  they  saw  their  new 
brothers  execute.  After  remaining  nearly 
an  hour  on  horseback  they  dismounted,  and 
followed  the  chiefs  into  the  medicine-lodge ; 
and  when  each  had  taken  his  seat  round 
the  council-fire,  and  the  calumet  had  again 
been  smoked,  Unicorn  rose. 

"  The  Master  of  Life  loves  his  Comanche 
sons,  since  He  gives  them  for  brothers  such 
warriors  as  Koutonepi  and  Curumilla.  Who 
can  equal  their  courage  ?  Who  would  dare 
to  contend  with  them?  On  their  approach 
the  grizzly  bear  hides  at  the  extremity  of 
its  den;  the  jaguar  bounds  far  away  on  see- 
ing them :  the  eagle  itself,  which  looks  the 
sun  in  the  face,  flies  from  their  unerring 
bullet.  Brothers,  we  congratulate  ourselves 
on  counting  you  among  our  warriors.  Hence- 


forth we  shall  be  invincible.  Brothers,  give 
up  the  names  you  have  up  to  this  day  borne, 
and  assume  those  we  now  give  you.  You, 
Koutonepi,  are  henceforth  Quauhtli,  and 
bear  the  name  of  that  eagle,  whose  courage 
and  strength  you  possess.  You,  Curumilla, 
will  be  called  Vexolotl,  and  the  cock  will  be 
proiul  to  see  that  you  have  taken  possession 
of  its  name.1' 

The  two  hunters  warmly  thanked  their 
new  brothers,  and  were  led  back  by  the  chiefs 
to  their  cabin,  who  wished  them  a  pleasant 
night  after  so  rude  a  day.  Such  was  the 
way  in  which  Valentine  and  Curumilla,  to 
whom  we  shall  continue  to  give  their  old 
names,  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Unicorn, 
and  the  result  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    MISSIONARY. 

WITH  time  the  relations  existing  between 
the  hunters  and  the  Indians  were  drawn 
closer,  and  became  more  friendly.  In  the 
desert  physical  strength  is  the  quality  most 
highly  esteemed.  Man,  compelled  to  strug- 

§le  incessantly  against  the  dangers  of  every 
escription  that  rise  each  moment  before 
him,  is  bound  to  look  only  to  himself  foi 
the  means  to  surmount  them.  Hence  the  In- 
dians profess  a  profound  contempt  for  sick- 
ly people,  and  weak  and  timid  nerves. 

Valentine  easily  induced  Unicorn  to  seize, 
during  the  hunt  of  the  wild  horses,  the  Mex- 
ican magistrates,  in  order  to  make  hostages 
of  them  if  the  conspiracy  were  unsuccessful. 
What  the  hunter  foresaw  happened.  Red 
Cedar  had  opposed  stratagem  to  stratagem ; 
and,  as  we  have  seen,  Don  Miguel  was  ar- 
rested in  the  midst  of  his  triumph,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  fancied  himself  master  of 
the  Paso  del  Nprte. 

After  Valentine,  Curumilla,  and  Don  Pa- 
blo had  seen,  from  their  hiding-place  in  the 
bushes,  the  mournful  escort  pass  that  was 
taking  Don  Miguel  as  a  prisoner  to  Santa  F6, 
they  held  a  council.  Moments  were 
precious,  for  in  Mexico  conspirators  have 
the  sad  privilege  over  other  prisoners  of  be- 
ing tried  quickly,  and  not  left  to  pine.  The 
prisoner  must  be  saved.  Valentine,  with 
that  promptitude  of  decision  which  formed 
the  salient  point  of  his  character,  soon  ar- 
ranged in  his  head  one  of  those  bold  schemes 
which  only  he  could  discover. 

"  Courage  !"  he  said  to  Don  Pablo.  "As 
long  as  the  heart  beats  in  the  breast  there  is 
hope,  thank  Heaven !  The  first  hand  is 
lost,  I  allow ;  but  now  for  the  second  game." 

Don  Pablo  had  entire  faith  in  Valentine  : 
he  had  often  been  in  the  position  to  try  his 
friend.  If  these  words  did  not  completely 
reassure  him,  they  at  least  almost  restored 
his  hope,  and  gave  him  back  that  courage 
so  necessary  to  him  at  this  supreme  moment, 
and  which  had  abandoned  him. 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"Speak,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "What  is 
to  be  done  ?" 

"  Let  us  attend  to  the  most  important  thing 
first,  nnd  save  Father  Seraphiu,  who  devot- 
ed himself  for  us." 

The  throe  men  started.  The  night  was  a 
gloomy  one.  The  moon  only  appeared  at 
intervals :  incessantly  vailed  by  thick  clouds 
which  passed  over  its  disk,  it  seemed  to 
shed  its  sickly  rays  regretfully  on  the  earth. 
The  wind  whistled  through  the  branches  of 
the  trees,  which  uttered  mysterious  mur- 
murs as  they  came  into  collision.  The  co- 
yotes howled  in  the  plain,  and  at  times  their 
sinister  forms  shot  athwart  the  sky-line. 
After  a  march  of  about  an  hour  the  three 
men  approached  the  spot  where  the  mission- 
ary had  fallen  from  the  effect  of  Red  Cedar's 
bullet ;  but  he  had  disappeared.  An  alarm 
mingled  with  a  frightful  agony  contracted 
the  hunters'  hearts'.  Valentine  took  a  de- 
spairing glance  around ;  but  the  darkness 
was  too  dense  for  him  possibly  to  distinguish 
any  thing. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?"  Don  Pab'lo  asked 
sadly. 

" Seek,"  Valentine  replied  sharply:  "lie 
can  not  be  far  off." 

Curumilla  had  already  taken  up  the  trail, 
and  had  disappeared  in  the  gloom.  The 
Araucano  had  never  been  a  great  speaker 
naturally :  with  age  he  had  grown  almost 
dumb,  and  never  uttered  a  word  save  when 
absolutely  necessary.  But  if  the  Indian 
did  not  talk,  he  acted ;  and  in  critical  situa- 
tions his  determination  was  often  worth 
long  harangues.  Don  Pablo,  obedient  to 
Valentine's  orders,  threw  his  rifle  over  his 
shoulder,  and  prepared  to  execute  them. 

"  Where  are  you  going  V"  the  hunter  ask- 
ed him,  as  he  seized  his  arm. 

"  To  look  for  Father  Seraphin." 

"Wait." 

The  two  men  stood  motionless,  listening 
to  the  mysterious  sounds  of  the  desert,  that 
nameless  melody  which  plunges  the  soul  in- 
to a  soft  reverie.  Nearly  an  hour  passed 
thus,  nothing  revealing  to  the  hunters  that 
Curumilla' s  search  had  proved  successful. 
Valentine  growing  impatient  at  this  long  de- 
lay, was  also  preparing  to  go  on  the  trail, 
when  all  at  once  the  weak,  snapping  cry  of 
the  w-.ilkon  rose  in  the  air. 

"  What's  that  ?"  Don  Pablo  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Silence!"  Valentine  muttered. 

A  second  time  the  walkon  sung,  but  this 
time  stronger,  and  much  nearer.  Valentine 
raised  his  lingers  to  his  lips,  and  imitated 
the  sharp,  shrill  yell  of  the  ocelot  twice  with 
such  perfection,  that  Don  Pablo  started  in- 
voluntarily, and  looked  round  for  the  wild 
beast,  whose  eyes  he  fancied  he  could  see 
flashing  behind  a  thicket.  Almost  immedi- 
ately the  note  of  the  walkon  was  heard  a 
third  time.  Valentine  rested  the  butt  of  his 
rifle  on  the  ground. 

"  Good  !*'  he  said,    "  Do  not  be  alarmed, 


Don  Pablo.  Curumilla  has  found  Father 
Seraphiu." 

The  young  man  looked  at  him  in  amaze- 
ment. The  hunter  smiled. 

"They  will  both  arrive  directly,"  he 
said. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"Child!"  Valentine  interrupted  him,  "in 
the  desert  the  human  voice  is  more  injuri- 
ous than  useful.  The  song  of  birds,  the  cry 
of  wild  beasts,  serve  us  as  language." 

"Yes,"  the  young  man  answered  simply, 
"that  is  true.  I  have  often  heard  it  stated; 
but  I  was  not  aware  you  could  understand 
one  another  so  easily." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  the  hunter  remarked, 
good  humoredly :  "you  will  see  much  more 
if  you  only  pass  a  mouth  in  our  company." 

In  a  few  moments  the  sound  of  footsteps 
became  audible,  at  first  faint,  then  gradually 
coming  nearer,  and  two  shadows  were  dimly 
drawn  on  the  night. 

"  Hallo !"  Valentine  shouted,  as  he  raised 
and  cocked  his  rifle,  "  friend  or  foe  ?" 

"  Pennis  (brothers,)"  a  voice  answered. 

"  It  is  Curumilla,"  said  Valentine.  "Let 
us  go  to  meet  him." 

Don  Pablo  followed  him,  and  they  soon 
reached  the  Indian,  who  walked  slowly, 
obliged  as  he  was  to  support,  almost  carry, 
the  missionary. 

When  Father  Seraphin  fell  off  his  horse 
he  almost  immediately  lost  his  senses.  He 
remained  for  a  long  time  lying  in  the  ditch, 
but  by  degrees  the  night  cold  had  brought 
him  round  again.  At  the  first  moment  the 
poor  priest,  whose  ideas  were  still  confused, 
1  ad  cast  anxious  glances  around  him,  while 
asking  himself  how  he  came  there,  and  by 
what  concourse  of  strange  events  it  had 
happened.  He  tried  to  rise;  but  then  a 
poignant  pain  he  felt  in  his  shoulders  re- 
minded him  of  what  had  occurred.  Still  ho 
did  not  despair.  Alone  by  night  in  the 
desert;  exposed  to  a  thousand  unknown 
dangers,  of  which  the  least  was  being  de- 
voured by  wild  beasts  ;  without  weapons  to 
defend  himself ;  too  weak,  indeed,  to  at- 
tempt it,  even  if  he  had  them,  he  resolved 
not  to  remain  in  this  terrible  position,  but 
make  the  greatest  efforts  to  rise,  and  drag 
himself  as  well  as  he  could  to  the  Paso, 
which  was  three  leagues  distant  at  the  most, 
where  he  was  sure  of  finding  that  care  his 
condition  demanded. 

Father  Seraph  in,  like  the  majority  of  the 
missionaries  who  generously  devote  them- 
selves to  the  welfare  of  humanity,  was  a  man 
who,  under  a  weak  and  almost  feminine  ap- 
pearance, concealed  an  indomitable  energy, 
and  a  resolution  that  would  withstand 'all 
trials.  So  soon  as  he  had  formed  his  plan 
he  began  carrying  it  out.  With  extreme 
difficulty  and  atrocious  pain  he  succeeded  in 
fastening  his  handkerchief  round  his  shoul- 
der, so  as  to  check  the  hemorrhage.  It 
took  more  than  an  hour  before  he  could 
stand  on  his  legs :  often  he  felt  himself  faint- 


THE  WOU3DED  MIW20MLR7. 


ing,  a  cold  perspiratiou  beaded  at  the  root 
of  lii«  hair,  he  had  a  buzzing  in  his  ears,  and 
every  thing  seemed  to  be  turning  round 
him ;  but  he  wrestled  with  the  pain,  clasp- 
ed his  hands  with  an  effort,  raised  his  tear- 
laden  eyes  to  heaven,  and  murmured  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart : 

41  OH  GOD!  deign  to  support  thy  servant, 
for  he  has  set  on  Thee  all  his  hope  and  con- 
ndeuce." 

Prayer,  when  made  with  faith,  produces 
in  a  man  an  effect  whose  consequences  are 
immediate  :  it  consoles  him,  gives  him  cour- 
age, and  almost  restores  him  the  strength 
that  has  deserted  him.  This  was  what  hap- 
pened to  Father  Seraphin.  After  uttering 
these  few  words  he  set  out  boldly,  support- 
ing his  tottering  footsteps  with  a  stick, 
which  a  providential  chance  had  placed  in 
his  way,  He  walked  thus  for  nearly  half  a 
league*  stopping  at  every  instant  to  draw 
breath :  but  human  endurance  has  limits  be- 
yond which  it  can  not  go.  In  spite  of  the 
efforts  he  made,  the  missionary  at  length 
felt  his  legs  give  way  under  him  ;  he  under- 
stood that  he  could  not  go  farther ;  and  he 
sunk  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  certain  that  he  had 
attempted  impossibilities,  and  henceforth 
resigning  to  Providence  the  care  of  saving 
him. 

It  was  at  this  moment  Curumilla  arrived 
near  him.  The  Indian  aided  him  to  rise, 
and  then  warned  his  comrades  of  the  suc- 
cess of  his  search.  Father  Seraphin,  though 
the  chief  offered  to  carry  him,  refused,  and 
wished  to  walk  to  join  his  friends ;  but  his 
strength  deserted  him  a  second  time,  he 
lost  his  senses,  and  fell  into  the  arms  of  the 
[ndian,  who  watched  him  attentively ;  for 
he  noticed  his  incrensing  weakness,  and 
foresaw  his  fall.  Valentine  and  Curumilla 
hastily  constructed  a  litter  of  tree- branches, 
on  which  they  laid  the  poor  wounded  man, 
and  raising  him  on  their  shoulders,  went  off 
with  him  rapidly.  The  night  passed  away, 
and  the  sim  was  already  hig'h  on  the  horizon, 
and  yet  the  hunters  were  marching.  At 
length,  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  they  reached 
the  cavern  which  served  Valentine  as  a 
.-helter,  and  to  which  he  had  resolved  to  car- 
h is  patient,  that  he  might  himself  nurse 
flirt. 

Father  Seraphin  was  in  a  raging  fever; 
his  face  was  red,  his  eyes  flashing.  As  near- 
ly always  happens  with  gun-shot  wounds,  a 
suppurating  fever  had  declared  itself.  The 
missionary  was  laid  on  a  bed  of  furs,  and 
Valentine  immediately  prepared  to  probe 
the  wound.  By  a  singular  chance  the  ball 
had  lodged  in  the  shoulder  without  fractur- 
ing the  blade- bone.  Valentine  drew  it; 
iincl  then,  helped  by  Curumilla,  who  had 
quietly  pounded  oregano  leaves,  he  formed 
a  cataplasm,  which  he  laid  on  the  wound, 
after  first  carefully  washing  it.  Scarcely  had 
this  been  done  ere  the  missionary  fell  into 

deep  sleep,  which  lasted  till  nightfall. 

Vrteutiue's  treatment  had  effected  won- 


ders. The  fever  had  disappeared,  the  priest' 9 
features  were  calmed,  the  flush  that  pui- 
plcd  his  cheeks  had  given  place  to  a  pallet 
caused  by  the-  loss  of  blood  ;  in  short,  he 
was  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  On  open- 
ing his  eyes  he  perceived  the  three  hunt- 
ers watching  him  anxiously.  He  smiled, 
and  said  in  a  weak  voice  : 

"  Thanks,  my  brothers,  thanks  for  the 
help  you  have  afforded  me.  Heaven  will 
reward  you.  I  feel  much  better." 

"The  Lord  be  praised!"  Valentine  an- 
swered. "  You  will  escape,  my  father,  more 
cheaply  than  I  had  dared  to  hope." 

"Can  it  be  possible  V" 

"Yes;  your  wound,  though  serious,  is 
not  dangerous,  and  in  a  few  days  you  can, 
if  you  think  necessary,  resume  your  avoca- 
tions." 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  new  good,  my  dear 
Valentine.  I  no  longer  count  the  times  i 
owed  my  life  to  yon.  Heaven,  in  its  infinite 
goodness  has  placed  you  near  me  to  support 
me  in  my  tribulations,  and  succor  me  in  days 
of  danger." 

The  hunter  blushed. 

"Do  not  speak  so,  my  father,"  he  said; 
"I  have  only  performed  a  sacred  duty.  Do 
you  feel  strong  enough  to  talk  for  a  few 
minutes  with  me  ?" 

"  Yes.     Speak,  my  friend  " 

"  1  wished  to  ask  your  advice." 

"My  talents  are  very  slight:  still  you 
know  how  I  love  you,  Valentine.  Tell  me 
what  vexes  you,  and  perhaps  I  may  be  use- 
ful to  you." 

"I  believe  it,  my  father." 

"  Speak,  then,  in  heaven's  name,  my 
friend;  for,  if  you  have  recourse  to  me,  the 
affair  must  be  very  serious." 

"It  can  not  be  more  so." 

"  Go  on  :  I  am  listening." 

And  the  missionary  settled  himself  on  his 
bed  to  hear  as  comfortably  as  he  could  the 
confession  the  hunter  wished  to  make  to 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   INTERVIEW. 

AT  daybreak  the  next  morning  Curumilla 
started  for  Unicorn's  village.  At  sunset  he 
returned  to  the  cavern,  accompanied  by  the 
Comanche  chief.  The  sachem  entertained 
the  most  profound  respect  for  Father  Sera- 
phin, whose  noble  character  he  could  appre- 
ciate, and  felt  pained  at  the  state  in  which 
he  found  him. 

"  Father,"  he  said  to  him,  as  he  kissed  his 
hand,  "  who  are  the  villains  who  thus  wound- 
ed yon,  to  whom  the  Master  of  Life  has  im- 
parted the  secret  to  make  us  happy  ?  Who- 
ever they  maybe,  these  men  shall  die." 

"  My  son,"  the  priest  answered,  gently, 
"  I  will  not  pronsunce  before  you  the  name 
of  the  unhappy  man  who,  in  a  moment  of 
madness,  raised  his  hand  against  me.  My 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER, 


God  is  a  God  of  peace;  he  is  merciful,  and 
recommends  his  creatures  to  forget  inju- 
ries, and  requite  good  for  evil." 

The  Indian  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
He  did  not  understand  the  soft  and  touch- 
ing sublimity  of  these  precepts  of  love. 
Educated  in  the  sanguinary  principles  of 
his  race — persuaded  like  all  red-skins,  that  a 
warrior's  first  duty  is  revenge — he  only  ad- 
mitted that  ferocious  law  of  the  prairies 
which  commands,  "  Eye  for  eye,  tooth  for 
tooth" — a  terrible  law,  which  we  do  not 
venture,  however,  utterly  to  condemn  in 
these  countries,  where  ambushes  are  per- 
manent, and  implacable  death  stands  at 
every  corner  of  the  road. 

"My  son,"  Father  Seraphin  continued, 
'  you  are  a  great  warrior.  Many  a  time  you 
have  braved  the  atrocious  tortures  of  the 
stake  of  blood,  a  thousand-fold  more  terri- 
ble than  death  itself.  Often  have  you,  with 
a  pleasure  I  excuse  (for  it  is  in  your  nature,) 
thrown  down  your  enemy,  and  planted  your 
knee  on  his  chest.  Have  you  never  par- 
doned anybody  in  fight  ?" 

"  Never !"  the  Indian  answered,  his  eye 
sparkling  with  satisfied  pride.  "  Unicorn 
has  sent  many  Apache  dogs  to  the  happy 
hunting-grounds :  their  scalps  are  drying  at 
the  door  of  his  cabin." 

"  Well,"  the  missionary  said,  gently, 
"  try  clemency  once,  only  once,  and  you 
will  know  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  God 
has  granted  to  man  on  this  earth — that  of 
pardoning." 

The  chief  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  a  dead  enemy  is  no 
longer  to  be  feared.  Better  to  kill  than  leave 
him  means  to  avenge  himself  at  a  later 
date." 

14 My  son,  you  love  me,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes.  My  father  is  good  ;  he  has  behaved 
well  to  the  Comanches,  and  they  are  grate- 
ful. Let,  my  father  command,  and  his  sou 
will  obey." 

"I  have  no  right  to  give  you  an  order, 
my  sou.  I  can  only  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

"Good!  My  father  can  explain  himself. 
Unicorn  will  do  what  he  desires." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  missionary,  with  a 
lively  feeling  of  joy,  "  promise  me  to  pardon 
the  first  unhappy  man,  whoever  he  may 
be,  who  falls  into  your  hands,  and  you  will 
render  me  happy." 

The  chief  frowned,  and  an  expression  of 
dissatisfaction  appeared  on  his  features. 
Father  Seraphin  anxiously  followed  on  the 
Comanche's  intelligent  countenance  the  dif- 
ferent shadows  reflected  on  it  as  in  a  mirror. 
At  length  the  Indian  regained  his  stoicism, 
and  his  face  grew  serene  again. 

"  Does  my  father  demand  it?"  he  asked, 
in  a  gentle  voice. 

"I  desire  it." 

"  Be  it  so :  my  father  shall  be  satisfied.  I 
promise  him  to  pardon  the  first  enemy  whom 
the  Manitou  causes  to  fall  beneath  the  point 
of  my  lance." 


"  Thanks,  chief,"  the  missionary  exclaim- 
ed, joyfully,  "thanks!  Heaven  will  reward 
you  for  this  good  idea." 

The  Indian  bowed  silently  and  turned  to 
Valentine,  who  had  been  listening  to  the 
conversation. 

"My  brother  called  me,  and  I  came. 
What  does  he  want  of  Unicorn?" 

"My  brother  will  take  his  seat  at  the 
council-fire,  and  smoke  the  calumet  with 
his  friend.  Chiefs  do  not  speak  without  re- 
flecting on  the  words  they  are  about  to  ut- 
ter." 

"  My  brother  speaks  well,  and  I  will  take 
my  seat  at  his  fire." 

Curumilla  had  lighted  a  large  fire  in  the 
first  grotto  of  the  cavern.  The  four  men 
left  Father  Seraphin  to  take  a  few  minutes' 
rest,  and  seated  themselves  round  the  fire, 
when  the  calumet  passed  from  hand  to  hand. 
The  Indians  never  undertake  any  thing  im- 
portant, or  commence  a  discussion,  without 
first  smoking  the  calumet  in  council,  what- 
ever may  be  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  are  placed.  Wrhen  the  calumet  had 
gone  the  round  Valentine  rose. 

"Every  day,"  hesaid,  bowingtothe  chief, 
"I  appreciate  more  and  more  the  honor  the 
Comanches  did  me  in  adopting  me  as  a  son. 
My  brother's  nation  is  powerful;  its  hunt- 
ing-grounds cover  the  whole  surface  of  the 
earth.  The  Apaches  fly  before  the  Coman- 
che  warriors  like  cowardly  coyotes  before 
courageous  men.  My  brother  has  al- 
ready several  times  done  me  a  service  with 
that  greatness  of  soul  which  distinguishes 
him,  and  can  only  belong  to  a  warrior  so 
celebrated  as  he  is.  To-day  I  have  again  a 
service  to  ask  of  my  brother,  and  wilf  he  do 
it  me  ?  I  presume  so ;  for  I  know  his  heart, 
and  that  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  Master  of 
Life  dwells  in  him." 

"Let  my  brother  explain,"  Unicorn  an- 
swered. "He  is  speaking  to  a  chief:  he 
must  remove  the  skin  from  his  heart,  and 
let  his  blood  flow  red  aud  bright  before  a 
friend.  The  great  white  hunter  is  a  portion 
of  myself.  I  should  have  to  be  prevented 
by  an  arrant  impossibility  if  I  refused  any 
request  emanating  from  him." 

"Thanks,  brother,"  Valentine  said  with 
emotion.  "  Your  words  have  passed  from 
your  lips  into  my  breast,  which  they  have 
rejoiced.  I  am  not  mistaken.  I  see  that  1 
can  ever  count  on  your  well-tried  friendship 
and  honest  aid.  Don  Miguel  Zarate,  the  de- 
scendant of  the  Mexican  kings,  the  friend 
of  the  red-skins,  whom  he  has  ever  protect- 
ed, is  a  prisoner  to  the  gaeimpmos.  They 
have  carried  him  to  Santa  Fd  in  order  to  put 
him  to  death,  and  deprive  the  Indians  of  the 
last  friend  left  them." 

"  And  what  does  my  brother  want  ?" 

"I  wish  to  sav«  my  friend." 

"Good!"  the  chief  answered.  "My 
brother  claims  my  help  to  succeed  in  that 
project,  I  suppose  ?" 


UXICORWS  PLEDGE. 


75 


II 


"Good!    My  brother  can  feel  reassured." 
"I  can    count,   then,    on    my    brother's 
aid?"  Valentine  asked,  quickly. 
The  chief  smiled. 

"  Unicorn  hokls  in  his  hands  Spaniards 

who  will  answer  for  the  life  of  the  prisoner." 

"That  is  true!"  Valentine   exclaimed   as 

he  struck  his  forehead.      "Your  idea  .is  a 

good  One,  chief." 

"  My  brother  will  leave  me  to  act.  I  an- 
swer for  success  on  my  head." 

"Act  as  you  please,  chief.  Still,  were  it 
only  for  form's  sake,  I  should  not  be  sorry 
to  know  what  you  intend  doing." 

"My   brother  has  a  white  skin,  but  his 
heart  is  Indian.     Let  him  trust  to  the  -pru- 
dence of  a  chief :    Unicorn   knows  how  to 
treat  with  the  gachupiuos." 
"Doubtless." 

"  Unicorn  will  go  to  Santa  Fe  to  speak 
with  the  chief  of  the  white  men." 

Valentine  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
The  chief  smiled. 
"  Have  I  not  hostages  ?"  he  said. 
"That  is  true,"  Valentine  remarked. 
The  chief  went  on  : 

'The  Spaniards  are,  like  chattering  old 
omen,  prodigal  of  seductive  words ;  but 
nicoru  knows  them.  How  many  times 
ready  has  he  trodden  the  war-path  on  their 
rritory  at  the  head  of  his  warriors !  They 
ill  not  dare  to  deceive  him.  Ere  the  sun 
twice  accomplished  its  revolution  round 
e  tortoise  whose  immense  shell  supports 
e  world,  the  chief  of  the  Comanches  will 
Try  the  bloody  arrows  to  the  whites,  and 
pose  to  them  peace  or  war.  Is  my  broth- 
satisfied?" 

"  I  am.  My  heart  is  full  of  gratitude  to- 
ward my  red  brother." 

"Good  !  What  is  that  to  Unicorn  ?  Less 
than  nothing.  Has  my  brother  any  thing 

to  ask  of  me?" 
"One  thing  more." 

"  Let  my  brother  explain  himself  as  quick- 
as   possible,   that  no   cloud  may  remain 
tween  him  and  his  red  brother." 
"I  will  dp  so.    Men  without  fear  of  the 
Spirit,  urged  by  some  mad  desire, 
ve  carried",  pff  Dona  Clara,  the  daughter 
the  white  chief   whom    my  brother  is 
edged  to  save." 

Who  are  these  men  ?    Does  my  brother 
know  them?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  them  only  too  well.  They 
are  bandits,  at  the  head  of  whom  is  a  mon- 
ster with  a  human  face,  called  Red  Cedar." 
At  this  name  the  Indian  started  slightly, 
his  eye  flashed  fire,  and  a  deep  wrinkle  hol- 
lowed his  forehead. 

"K«'u  Cedar  is  aferocious  jaguar,"  he  said 
with  concentrated  passion.  ""He  has  made 
himself  the  scourge  of  the  Indians,  whose 
scalps  he  desires.  This  man  has  no  pity 
either  for  women  or  children,  but  he  possess- 
no  courage:  he  only  attacks  his  enemies 
the  dark,  twenty  against  one,  and  when 

rf>   nf    TYiOfvfinof  nriH-i  TT^   -vn a i c? -fkivi K'a   » 


is  sure  of  meeting  with  no  resistance.' 


"  My  brother  knows  this  man,  I  see." 

"And this  man  has  carried  off  the  white 
gazelle?" 

"Yes." 

"Good!  My  brother  wishes  to  know 
what  Red  Cedar  has  done  with  his  prison- 
er?" 

"I  do  wish  it." 

The  Indian  rose. 

"  Time  is  slipping  away,"  he  said.  "  Uni- 
corn will  return  to  his  friends.  My  brother 
the  hnnter  need  not  feel  alarmed  :  a  chief  is 
watching." 

After  uttering  these  few  words  the  chief 
went  down  into  the  cavern,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of 
the  desert.  Valentine  had  every  reason  to 
be  satisfied  with  his  interview  with  the 
Comanche  chief ;  but  Father  Seraphin  was 
less  pleased  than  the  hunter.  The  worthy 
priest,  both  through  his  nature  and  his  vo- 
cation, was  not  disposed  to  employ  violent 
measures,  which  were  repugnant  to  him:  he 
would  have  liked,  were  it  possible,  to  settle 
every  thing  by  gentleness,  and  without  run- 
ning the  risk  of  bloodshed. 

Three  weeks  elapsed,  however,  ere  Uni- 
corn appeared  to  be  effectually  carrying,  out 
the  plan  he  had  explained  to  Valentine,  who 
only  learnt  indirectly  that  a  strong  party  of 
Comanehe  warriors  had  invaded  the  Mexican 
frontiers.  Father  Seraphin,  though  not  yet 
completely  cured,  had  insisted  on  proceed- 
ing to  Santa  Fe  to  take  some  steps  to  save 
Don  Miguel,  whose  trial  had  gone  on  rapid- 
ly, and  who  was  on  the  point"  of  being  exe- 
cuted. For  his  part,  Don  Pablo,  half  mad 
with  uneasiness,  also  insisted,  in  spite  of 
Valentine's  entreaties  and  remarks,  on  en- 
tering Santa  Fe  furtively,  and  trying  to  see 
his  father. 

The  night  on  which  we  found  Valentine 
in  the  clearing  Unicorn  visited  him  for  the 
first  time  in  a  mouth :  he  came  to  inform 
him  of  the  success  of  the  measures  he  had 
taken.  Valentine,  used  to  Indian  habits, 
understood  half  a  word :  hence  he  had  not 
hesitated  to  announce  to  Don  Pablo  as  a 
positive  fact  that  his  father  would  soon  be 
free. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE   PRISON . 

DON  MIGUEL  and  General  Ibanez  had  man- 
aged to  be  confined  together  by  the  expend- 
iture of  many  entreaties  and  a  heavy  sum 
of  gold.  They  inhabited  two  wretched 
rooms,  the  entire  furniture  of  which  con- 
sisted in  a  halting-table,  a  few  leather-cover- 
ed butaccas,  and  two  benches  which  served 
them  as  beds.  These  two  men,  so  powerful 
by  nature,  had  endured  without  complaint 
all  the  humiliation  and  insults  inflicted  on 
them  during  their  trial,  resolved  to  die  as 
they  had  lived,  with  head  erebt  and  firm 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


heart,  without  giving  the  judges  who  had 
condemned  them  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
them  turn  weak  at  the  last  moment. 

It  was  toward  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
on  which  we  saw  Valentine  in  the  clearing. 
Darkness  fell  rapidly,  and  the  only  window, 
a  species  of  narrow  slit  that  served  to  light 
the  prison,  allowed  but  a  weak  and  dubious 
light  to  penetrate.  Don  Miguel  was  walk- 
ing with  long  strides  up  and  down  his  prison, 
while  the  General,  carelessly  reclining  on 
one  of  the  benches,  quietly  smoked  his  cig- 
arette, watching  with  childish  pleasure  the 
clouds  of  bluish  smoke  which  rose  in  a 
spiral  to  the  ceiling,  and  which  he  constant- 
ly blew  asunder. 

"Well,"  Don  Miguel  said  all  at  once,  "it 
seems  it  is  not  for  to-day  either." 

"Yes,"  the  General  said,  "unless  (though 
I  do  not  believe  it)  they  wish  to  do  us  the 
honor  of  a  torchlight  execution." 

"  Can  you  at  all  account  for  this  delay  ?" 

"  On  my  honor,  no.  I  have  ransacked  my 
brains  in  vain  to  guess  the  reason  that  pre- 
vents them  shooting  us,  and  I  have  given  it 
upas  a  bad  job." 

"  Same  with  me.  At  first  I  fancied  they 
were  trying  to  frighten  us  by  the  continued 
apprehension  of  death  constantly  suspend- 
ed over  our  heads  like  another  sword  of 
Damocles ;  but  this  idea  seemed  to  me  too 
absurd." 

"  I  am  entirely  of  'your  opinion ;  still 
something  extraordinary  must  be  occurring." 

"  What  makes  you  suppose  that  ?" 

"  Why,  for  the  last  two  days  our  worthy 
jailer,  Tio  Quesada,  has  become,  not  polite 
to  us  (for  that  is  impossible),  but  less  bru- 
tal. I  notice  that  he  has  drawn  in  his  claws, 
and  attempted  a  grin.  It  is  true  that  his 
1'ace  is  so  little  accustomed  to  assume  that 
expression,  that  the  only  result  he  obtains 
is  to  make  a  wretched  grimace." 

"  And  you  conclude  from  that?" 

"Nothing  positive,"  the  General  said. 
"Still  I  ask  myself  whence  comes  this  in- 
comprehensible change.  It  would  be  as  ab- 
surd to  attribute  it  to  the  pity  he  feels  for 
our  position  as  to  suppose  that  the  Gov- 
ernor will  come  to  ask  our  pardon  for  having 
tried  and  condemned  us." 

"Eh?"  Don  Miguel  said  with  a  toss  of 
his  head.  "  All  is  not  over — we  are  not 
dead  yet." 

"That  is  true;  but  keep  your  mind  at 
rest— we  shall  be  so,  soon." 

"  Our  life  is  in  God's  hands.  He  will  dis- 
pose of  it  at  his  pleasure." 

"Amen!"  the  General  said  reverently, 
as  he  rolled  a  fresh  cigarette. 

"  Do  you  not  consider  it  extraordinary 
that,  during  the  whole  month  we  have  been 
confined  here,  our  friends  have  not  given  a 
sign  of  life?" 

The  General  shrugged  his  shoulder*  care- 
lessly. 

" Hum !"  he  said,  "a  prisoner  is  very  *ick, 
anfl  our  friends  doubtless  feared  to  mtrke  us 


worse  by  the  sight  of  their  grief:  that  is  why 
they  have  deprived  themselves  of  the 
pleasure  of  visiting  us." 

"  Do  not  jest,  General.  You  accuse  them 
wrongfully,  I  feel  convinced." 

"May  Heaven  grant  it!  For  my  part,  I 
heartily  forgive  them  their  indifference,  and 
the  oblivion  in  which  they  have  left  us." 

"I  cau  not  believe  that  Don  Valentine, 
that  true-hearted  and  noble  minded  man, 
for  whom  I  ever  felt  so  deep  a  friendship, 
has  not  tried  to  see  me," 

"  Bah  !  How,  Don  Miguel,  can  you,  so 
near  death  as  you  are,  still  believe  in  hon- 
orable feelings  in  any  man?" 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  great  clash  of 
iron  outside,  and  the  door  of  the  room  was 
opened  sufficiently  to  afford  passage  to  the 
jailer,  who  preceded  another  person.  The 
almost  complete  obscurity  that  prevailed  in 
the  prison  prevented  the  condemned  men 
from  recognizing  the  visitor,  who  wore  a 
long  black  gown. 

"Eh,  eh!"  the  General  muttered  in  his 
comrade's  ear,  "  I  believe  that  General  Ven- 
tura, our  amiable  Governor,  has  at  length 
made  up  his  mind." 

"  Why  so  ?"  Don  Miguel  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  He  has  sent  us  a  priest,  which  means 
that  we  shall  be  executed  to-morrow." 

"On  my  word,  all  the  better,"  Don  Mig- 
uel couid  not  refrain  from  saying. 

In  the  mean  while  the  jailer,  a  short,  thick- 
set man,  with  a  ferret-face  and  cunning  eye, 
had  turned  to  the  priest,  whom  he  invited 
to  enter,  saying  in  a  hoarse  voice : 

"Here  it  is,  senor  padre:  these  are  the 
condemned  persons." 

"Will  you  leave  us  alone,  my  friend ?" 
the  stranger  said. 

"  Will  you  have  my  lantern?  It  is  get- 
ting dark,  and  when  people  are  talking  they 
like  to  see  one  another." 

"Thanks;  you  can  do  so.  You  will  open 
when  I  call  you  by  tapping  at  the  door." 

"  All  right — I  will  do  so  ;"  and  he  turned 
to  the  condemned,  to  whom  he  said  savage- 
ly, "  Well,  senores,  here  is  a  priest.  Take 
advantage  of  his  services  now  you  have  got 
him.  In  your  position  there  is  no  knowing 
what  may  happen  from  one  moment  to 
the  other." 

The  prisoners  shrugged  their  shoulders 
contetnptuoiisly,  but  made  no  reply.  The 
jailer  went  out.  When  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps  had  died  away  in  the  distance,  the 
priest,  who  had  till  this  moment  stood  with 
his  body  bent  forward  and  his  ear  on  the 
watch,  drew  himself  up,  and  walked  straight 
to  Don  Miguel.  This  maneuver  on  the  part 
of  the  stranger  surprised  the  two  gentlemen, 
who  anxiously  awaited  what  was  about  to 
happen.  The  lantern  left  by  the  jailer  only 
spread  a  faint  and  flickering  light,  scarcely 
sufficient  to  distinguish  objects'. 

"My  father,"  the  haciendero  said  in  a 
firm  voice,  "I  thank  the  person  who  sent 


I7T  REFUSED. 


77 


to  prepare  me  for  death,  for  I  anxiously 
bed  to  fulfill  my  duties  as  a  Christian  be- 
re  being  executed.  If  you  will  proceed 
ith  me  into  the  adjoining  room  I  will  con- 
s  my  sins  to  you :  they  are  those  which 
n  honest  man  ordinarily  commits :  for  my 
oart  is  pure,  and  I  have  nothing  to  re- 
roach  myself  with." 

The  priest  took  off  his  hat,  seized  the 
lantern,  and  placed  it  near  his  pale  face, 
whose  noble  an!  gentle  features  were  sud- 
denly displayed  in  the  light. 

"  Father  Seraph  in !"  the  prisoners  exclaim- 
ed with  a  surprise  mingled  with  joy. 

"Silence!"  the  priest  ordered  quickly. 
"Do  not  pronounce  my  name  so  loudly, 
brothers :  every  one  is  ignorant  of  my  be- 
ing here  except  the  jailer,  who  is  my  confi- 
dant." 

"He!"  Don  Miguel  said  with  stupor; 
"  the  man  who  has  been  insulting  and  hu- 
miliating us  during  a  month  !" 

"  That  man  is  henceforth  ours.     Lose  no 
time,  come.    I  have  secure  means  to  get  you 
out  of  prison,  and    to    leave  the  town   ere 
our  evasion  can  be  even    suspected:  the 
orses  are  prepared— an  escort  is  awaiting 
ou.   Come,  gentlemen,  for  the  moments  are 

ous." 

The  two  prisoners  interchanged  a  glance 
'  sublime  eloquence ;  then  General  Ibanez 
quietly  seated  himself  on  a  butacca,  while 
Don  Miguel  replied ; 

"Thanks,  my  father.  You  have  undertaken 
e  noble  task  of  soothing  all  sorrow,  and 
m  do  not  wish  to  fail  in  your  duty.  Thanks 
r  the  offer  you  make  us,  which  vve  can  not, 
wever,   accept.     Men  like    us  must  not 
ve  our  enemies  right  by  flying  like   crirn- 
nals.      We  fought  for  a    sacred  principle, 
and  succumbed.     We  owe  it  to  our  country- 
men and  to  ourselves  to  endure  death  brave- 
When  we  conspired  we  were  perfectly 
ell  aware  of  what  awaited  us  if  we  were 
nquered.      Once    again,  thanks:  but  we 
11  only  quit  this  prison  as  free  men,  or  to 
ilk  to  punishment." 

"  I  have  not  the  courage,  gentlemen,  to 
lame  your  heroic  resolution  :  in  a  similar 
e  I  should  act  as  you  are   doing.     You 
ve  a  very  slight  hope  still    left,  so  wait, 
'erchance,  within  a    few  hours,  unforeseen 
events  will  occur  to  change  the  face  of  mat- 
ters." 

"  We  hope  for  nothing  more,  my  father." 
"  That  word  is  a  blasphemy  in  your  mouth, 
Don  Miguel.  God  can  do  all"  he  wills.  Hope, 
I  tell  you." 

"  I  am  wrong,  father :  forgive  me." 
"  Hola!"  the  jailer  shouted  through  the 
door.       "  Make  haste  ;    it  is  getting  late. 
It  will  soon  be  impossible  to  leave  the  city." 
"  Open  the  door,"  the  missionary  said,'  in 
a  firm  voice.     The  jailer  appeared.  * 
"Well?"  he  asked. 

Light  me  and  lead  me  out  of  the  prison. 
c%balloro.3  refuse  to  profit  by  the 
of  safety  I  carao  to  offer  them. 


The  jailer  shook  hia  head  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 
"They  are  mad,"  he  said. 
And  he  went  out,  followed  by  the  priest.    " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  EMBASSY. 

ON  the  selfsame  day  that  Father  Sera- 
phin  went  to  the  prison  to  propose  an  es- 
cape to  the  condemned,  a  very  strange  cir- 
cumstance had  aroused  the  entire  popula- 
tion of  Santa  F£.  At  about  mid-day,  at  the 
moment  when  the  inhabitants  were  enjoy- 
ing their  siesta,  and  the  streets,  calcined  by 
the  beams  of  a  tropical  sun,  were  complete- 
ly deserted,  a  formidable  hurrah,  the  ter- 
rible war-yell  of  the  Coinanche  Indians,  burst 
forth  at  the  entrance  of  the  town. 

A  detachment  of  dismounted  warriors, 
about  two  hundred  strong,  was  marching 
in  close  column,  flanked  on  either  wing  by 
two  troops,  each  of  fifty  horse.  About 
twenty  paces  in  front  caracoled  Unicorn. 

The  Coinanches  did  not  appear  to  notice 
the  excitement  they  created.  As  soon  aB 
they  were  on  the  Plaza  Mayor  they  halted, 
and  remained  motionless,  as  if  their  feet  had 
suddenly  grown  to  the  ground.  Unicorn 
made  a  sign  with  his  talisman  :  a  warrior 
quitted  the  ranks,  and  rode  up  to  the  sentry 
standing  in  front  of  the  Governor's  palace, 
who  regarded  the  singular  scene  with  a 
dazed  air. 

"  Wah !"  the  Indian  said,  sarcastically, 
as  he  lightly  touched  the  soldier  with  the 
end  of  his  lance.  "  Is  niy  brother  asleep, 
that  he  does  not  hear  a  warrior  addressing 
him?" 

"  I  am  not  asleep,"  the  soldier  answered, 
as  he  fell  back  a  pace.  "What  do  you 
want?" 

"  Is  my  brother  a  chief  ?" 

"No,"  the  soldier  answered,  greatlj'  con- 
fused by  this  lesson. 

While  the  Comauche  warrior  was  exchan- 
ging these  few  words  with  the  sentry,  sev- 
eral persons,  came  out  of  the  palace  attracted 
by  the  unusual  disturbance.  Among  them 
were  several  officers,  one  of  whom  advanced 
to  the  Indian  horseman. 

"  What  docs  my  brother  want  ?"  he  asked 
him. 

The  warrior  saw  at  the  first  glance  that 
this  time  he  had  to  do  with  a  chief.  Ho 
bowed  courteously,  and  answered : 

"A deputation  of  the  great  Coinanche  na- 
tion desires  to  be  introduced  to  my  great 
white  father." 

"  Good  !  But  all  the  warriors  can  not  en- 
ter the  palace,"  the  officer  said. 

"My  brother  is  right.  Their  chiefs  alone 
will  go  in:  their  young  men  will  await  them 
here/' 

"Let  my  brother  be  patient  J  will  * 
and  deliver  his  message  in  all 


78 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"Good!  My  brother  is  a  chief.  The 
Spider  will  await  him." 

The  officer  disappeared  iu  the  interior, 
while  the  Spider  planted  the  end  of  his  long 
lance  in  the  ground,  and  remained  with  his 
eye  fixed  on  the  gate  of  the  palace,  not 
evincing  the  slightest  impatience. 

The  New  Governor  of  Santa  ¥6  was  a 
General  of  the  name  of  Don  Benito  Ventu- 
ra. He  was  ignorant  as  a  fish,  stupid  and 
haughty  as  a  heatheock. 

lie  had  learned  with  the  utmost  terror 
the  entrance  of  the  Comanches  into  the 
town,  and  when  the  officer  intrusted  with 
Spider's  message  presented  himself  before 
him  he  had  literally  lost  his  head.  It  took 
all  possible  trouble  to  make  him  compre- 
hend that  the  Indians  came  as  friends.  AVhen 
at  length  he  saw  himself  surrounded  and 
supported  by  the  officers  of  his  staff  his 
terror  was  slightly  toned  down  ;  and  being 
finally  convinced  by  their  arguments,  he 
gave  in  e  officer  who  brought  the  message 
orders  to  bring  the  three  principal  Indian 
chiefs  into  the  palace. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  PRESENTATION. 

THE  officer  dispatched  by  General  Ventu- 
ra had  performed  his  duty.  Unicorn  and 
two  other  chiefs  dismounted,  and  followed 
him  into  the  palace.  There  thirty  officers, 
attired  in  their  splendid  uniforms,  that 
glistened  with  gold  and  decorations,  were 
arranged  round  the  General,  while  three 
posts  of  ten  men  each  held  the  doors  of  the 
hall  of  reception. 

When  the  preparations  were  completed 
the  embassadors  were  introduced.  The  In- 
dian chiefs,  accustomed  for  a  long  period  to 
Spanish  luxury,  entered  without  testifying 
the  slightest  surprise.  They  bowed  with 
dignity  to  the  assembly,  and,  crossing  their 
arms  on  their  chests,  waited  till  they  were 
addressed  by  the  General. 

"  What  reason  can  have  been  so  powerful 
as  to  oblige  my  sons  to  come  and  see  me  ?" 
he  asked,  m  a  gracious  and  conciliating  tone. 
"Let  them  make  their  request,  and,  if  I 
can  do  so,  I  shall  be  most  ready  to  satisfy 

This  opening,  which  the  Governor  fancied 
to  be  very  politic,  was,  on  the  contrary, 
most  awkward,  as  it  offended  the  pride  of 
those  he  addressed,  and  whom  he  had  the 
greatest  interest  in  humoring.  Unicorn 
took  a  step  forward.  A  sarcastic  smile  play- 
ed on  his  lips,  and  he  replied  in  a  voice 
slightly  tinged  with  irony  : 

44  The  Comanches  do  not  come  here  to  ask 
a  favor.  They  know  how  to  avenge  them- 
selves when  insulted." 

"  What  do  my  sons  want,  then  ?" 

"  To  treat  with  my  father  for  the  ransom 
of  the  white  chiefs  who  are  in  their  power. 


Five  pale-faces  inhabit  the  cabin  of  the  Co 
manches.  The  young  men  of  the  tribe  de- 
mand their  punishment,  for  the  blood  of 
the  pale-faces  if-  Agreeable  to  the  Master  ol 
Life*  To-morrow  the  prisoners  will  have 
ceased  to  live  if  my  father  does  not  buy  them 
off  to-day.  What  does  my  father  say? 
Shall  we  fasten  our  prisoners  to  the  stake 
of  blood,  or  restore  them  to  liberty'?" 

"  What  ransom  do  you  ask?"  the  General 
said. 

"  Listen,  all  you  chiefs  of  the  pale-faces 
here  present,  and  judge  of  the  clemency 
and  generosity  of  the  Comanches.  We  on- 
ly wish,  for  the  life  of  these  five  men,  the 
life  of  two  men." 

44  That  is  little,  I  allow,"  the  General  re- 
marked ;  "  and  who  are  the  two  men  whose 
lives  you  ask?" 

44  The  pale-faces  call  them,  the  first,  Don 
Miguel  Zarate ;  the  second,  General  Ibanez." 

The  General  started, 

"  Those  two  men  can  not  be  delivered  to 
you,"  he  answered;  "they  are  condemned 
to  death,  and  will  die  to-morrow." 

44  Good!  My  prisoners  will  be  tortured 
this  night,"  the  chief  replied,  stoically. 

"Confound  it!"  the  General  sharply  ex- 
claimed, "is  there  no  other  arrangement 
possible  ?  Let  my  brothers  ask  me  a  thing 
I  can  grant  them,  and — " 

"  Enough  !  We  will  retire,"  Unicorn  said, 
haughtily.  " Longer  discourse  is  needless: 
our  deeds  shall  speak  for  us." 

44 A  moment!"  the  General  exclaimed. 
"All  may  be  yet  arranged.  An  affair  like 
the  present  can  not  be  settled  all  in  a  hur- 
ry :  we  must  reflect  on  the  propositions  made 
to  us.  My  son  is  a  chief,  and  will  grant  us 
reasonable  time  to  offer  him  a  reply." 

Unicorn  bent  a  suspicious  glance  on  the 
Governor. 

44  My  father  has  spoken  wisely,"  he  pres- 
ently made  answer.  "  To-morrow,  at  the 
twelfth  hour,  I  will  come  for  the  final  an- 
swer of  the  pale-faces.  But  my  father  will 
promise  to  me  not  to  order  the  punishment 
of  the  prisoners  till,  he  has  told  me  the  de- 
cision he  has  come  to." 

44  Be  it  so,"  the  General  answered.  "  But 
what  will  the  Comanches  do  till  then  ?" 

44  They  will  leave  the  town  as  they  entered 
it,  and  bivouac  on  the  plain." 

44  Agreed  on." 

44  The  Master  of  Life  has  heard  my  fath- 
e^r's  promise,  If  he  breaks  his  word,  and 
possesses  a  forked  tongue,  the  blood  shed 
will  fall  on  his  head." 

The  Comanche  uttered  these  words  with 
a  significant  tone  that  made  the  General 
tremble  inwardly;  then  lie  bowed  to  the  as- 
sembly, and  left  the  hall  with  his  compan- 
ions. It  was  after  this  interview  that  Uni- 
corn had  the  conversation  with  Valentine 
which  we  recently  described. 

Still,  when  the  Mexican  officers  were  alone 
with  the  .General,  their  courage  returned  all 
at  once,  and  they  reproached  him  for  the 


SIGHING  LIKE  FURNACE. 


little  dignity  he  had  displayed  before  the  In- 
dians, and  specially  for  the  promise  he  had 
made  them. 

"  The  promise  you  allude  to  pledges  tne 
to  nothing.  Between  this  and  to-morrow 
certain  things  will  happen  to  free  us  from 
the  Comanches,  and  enable  us  to  dispense 
with  surrendering  the  prisoners  they  demand 
so  insolently." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

BROTHER  AND  SISTER. 

ABOUT  half  a  league  west  of  Santa  Fe  three 
men  and  a  woman  were  seated  behind  a 
dense  clump  of  trees,  which  sheltered  while 
rendering  them  unseen,  over  a  brushwood 
fire,  supping  with  good  appetite,  and  chat- 
ting together.  The  three  men  were  Red 
Cedar's  sons;  the  female  was  Ellen. 

"Hum!"  Sutter  said,  "what  can  keep 
father  so  long  ?  He  told  us  that  he  should 
be  back  by  four  o'clock  at  the  latest;  but 
the  sun  is  just  disappearing  oil  the  horizon, 
and  he  has  not  come  yet." 

"I  care  very  little,"  Sutter  brusquely  re- 

Flicd,  "whether  father  is  here  or  not;  but 
believe  we  should  do  well  not  to  wait  long- 
er, but  return  to  the  camp,  where  our  pres- 
ence is  doubtless  necessary." 

"  Nonsense !  Our  comrades  can  do  with- 
out us,"  Shaw  observed.  "If  father  has 
not  returned  by  sunrise,  we  will  go  back  to 
camp.  Harry  and  Dick  can  keep  good  order 
till  our  return." 

"  Let  us  stay,  then,"  Sutter  remarked. 
"We  shall  only  have  to  keep  the  fire  up, 
and  one  of  its  will  watch  while  the  others 
sleep." 

The  three  brothers  rose.  Sutter  and 
Nathan  collected  a  pile  of  dry  wood  to  main- 
tain the  fire,  while  Shaw  intertwined  a  few 
branches  to  make  his  sister  a  sufficient  shel- 
ter for  the  night.  The  two  elder  brothers 
thrust  their  feet  toward  the  fire,  wrapped 
themselves  in  their  blankets,  and  went  to 
sleep,  after  advising  Shaw  to  keep  a  bright 
look-out.  Shaw,  after  stirring  up  the  fire, 
threw  himself  at  the  foot  ot  a  large  tree, 
and  letting  his  head  sink  on  his  chest,  plung- 
ed into  deep  and  painful  meditation. 

His  sister  Ellen  was  the  only  member  of 
his  family  for  whom  he  experienced  sym- 
pathy ;  and  yet  it  was  only  with  extreme 
reserve  that  he  intrusted  his  boyish  secrets 
to  her — secrets  which,  during  the  last  few 
days,  had  acquired  an  importance  he  did  not 
himself  suspect,  but  which  his  sister,  with 
the  innate  intelligence  of  woman,  had  already 
divined. 

Shaw,  as  we  have  said,  was  thinking. 
He  was  dreaming  of  Clara.  Ho  loved  her, 
as  he  was  capable  of  loving,  with  that  pas- 
sionate impetuosity,  that  violence  of  feeling, 
to  which  his  uncultivated  mind  adapted  him. 
The  sight  of  the  maiden  caused  him  a  strange 
trouble,  which  he  £id  not  attempt  to  ac- 


count for.  He  did  not  try  to  analyze  hid 
feelings,  for  that  Would  have  been  impossi- 
ble ;  and  yet  at  times  he  was  a  prey  to  cold 
and  terrible  fury,  when  thinking  that  the 
haughty  maiden,  who  was  even  unconscious 
of  his  existence,  would  probably  only  spurii 
and  despise  him  if  she  knew  it.  He  was 
yielding  to  these  crushing  thoughts,  wheu 
he  suddenly  felt  a  hand  laid  on  his  shoulder. 
On  turning,  Ellen  stood  before  him,  up- 
right and  motionless,  like  the  white  appa- 
ritions of  the  German  legends.  He  raised 
his  head,  and  bent  an  inquiring  glance  on 
his  sister. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ellen?" 

"  Can  ymi  not  guess  ?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"On  the  contrary,  yon  understand  me  too 
well,  Shaw,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh.  "  Your 
heart  rejoices  at  this  moment  at  the  misfor- 
tune of  the  woman  you  should  defend." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?"  he  murmured,  faintly  ; 
"  the  person  of  whom  you  speak  is  father's 
prisoner.  I  can  not  contend  agams^t  him." 

Ellen  smiled,  contemptuously. 

"•  You  seek  in  vain  to  hide  your  thoughts 
from  me,"  she  said.  "  I  read  your  heart  as 
an  open  book :  your  sorrow  is  feigned,  and 
you  really  rejoice  at  the  thought  that  in  fu- 
ture you  will  constantly  be  by  Clara's  side." 

"Tl"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  angry  start. 

"  Yes,  you  only  see  in  her  captivity  a 
means  to  approach  her.  Your  selfish  heart 
is  secretly  gladdened  by  that  hope." 

"You  are  harsh  to  me,  sister.  Heaven 
is  my  witness  that,  were  it  possible,  I  would 
at  once  restore  her  the  liberty  torn  from 
her." 

"  You  can  if  you  like." 

"  No,  it  is  impossible.  My  father  watch- 
es too  closely  over  his  prisoner." 

"  He  will  not  distrust  you,  but  allow  you 
to  approach  her  freely." 

"But  how  save  her?" 

"That  is  your  affair,  Shaw." 

"But father?"  Shaw  said,  hesitatingly. 

"He  will  not  know  your  movements.  I 
take  on  myself  to  prevent  him  noticing 
them." 

"Good1."  the  young  man  remarked,  half- 
convinced:  "  but  I  do  not  know  where  the 
maiden  is  hidden." 

"  I  will  tell  you ;  Clara  is  confined  at  the 
Rancho  del  Coyote  :  she  was  intrusted  to 
Andres  Garote." 

"  Ah,  ah  1"  the  young  man  said,  as  if  speak- 
ing to  himself,  "I  did  not  fancy  her  so  near 
us." 

"Good!"  the  maiden  remarked.  "Lose 
no  time  :  my  father's  absence  alarms  me. 
Perhaps  at  this  moment  he  is  preparing  a 
safer  hiding-place  for  his  prisoner." 

"  But  who  will  keep  watch  while  my  broth- 
ers sleep  ?" 

"  I  will,"  the  maiden  answered,  resolutely. 

"  Whence  arises  the  interest  you  feel  in 
this  woman,  sister,  as  you  do  not  know 
her  ?"  the  young  man  asked,  in  surprise. 


THE  TJfrU-HUNTElt. 


"  She  is  a  woman,  and  unhappy.  Are  not 
those  reasons  sufficient  ?" 

"Perhaps  so,"  Shaw  remarked  doubtfully. 

And  rising;  hurriedly,  he  kissed  his  sister, 
threw  his  rilie  over  his  shoulder,  and  ran  off 
in  the  direction  of  Santa  Fe.  When  he  had 
disappeared  in  the  gloom,  and  the  sound  of 
his  footsteps  had  died  out  in  the  distance, 
the  girl  fell  on  the  ground,  muttering  in  a 
low,  sad  voice : 

"Will  he  succeed?" 


CHAPTER  XXXVlf 

DIAMOND  CUT  DIAMOND. 

RED  CEDAK  did  not  remain  long  under  the 
effect  of  the  startling  insult  he  had  received. 
Pride,  wrath,  and,  before  all,  the  desire  to 
avenge  himself,  restored  his  strength,  and  a 
few  minutes  after  Don  Pablo  Zarate's  de- 
parture the  squatter  had  regained  all  his 
coolness  and  audacity. 

"  You  see,  senor  padre,"  he  said,  address- 
ing the  monk,  "  that  our  little  plans  are 
known  to  our  enemies  :  we  must,  therefore, 
make  haste  if  we  do  not  wish  to  see  persons 
break  in  here,  from  whom  it  is  of  the  ut- 
most importance  to  conceal  ourselves.  To- 
morrow night  at  the  latest,  perhaps  before, 
we  shall  start.  Do  not  stir  from  here  till  my 
return.  Your  face  is  too  well  known  at 
Santa  F6  for  you  to  venture  to  show  it  in 
the  streets  without  imprudence." 

"Hum!"  the  monk  muttered,  "that  de- 
mon, whom  I  fancied  dead,  is  a  rude  adver- 
sary. Fortunately  we  shall  soon  have  nothing 
more  to  fear  from  his  father,  for  I  hardly 
know  how  we  should  get  out  of  it." 

"  If  the  son  has  escaped  us,"  Red  Cedar 
said  with  an  ugly  smile,  "  that  is  fortunately 
not  the  case  with  the  father.  Don't  be 
alarmed :  Don  Miguel  will  cause  us  no  fur- 
ther embarrassment." 

"  I  wish  it  most  earnestly,  for  he  is  a  de- 
termined man  ;  but  I  confess  to  you  that  I 
shall  not  be  entirely  at  my  ease  till  I  have 
seen  him  fall  beneath  the  bullets  of  the  sol- 
diers." 

"  You  will  not  have  long  to  wait.  General 
Ventura  has  ordered  me  to  go  and  meet  the 
regiment  of  dragoons  he  expects,  in  order 
to  hurry  them  on,  and  bring  them  into  the 
town  this  very  night,  if  possible.  So  soon 
as  the  Governor  has  an  imposing  force  at  his 
disposal  he  will  no  longer  fear  a  revolt  on 
the  part  of  the  troops,  and  give  the  order 
for  execution  without  delay." 

"May  heaven  grant  it!  But,"  he  added 
with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "what  a  pity  that 
most  of  our  scamps  deserted  us  !  We  should 
have  almost  arrived  at  the  place  by  this  time, 
and  been  safe  from  the  vengeance  of  our 
enemies." 

"  Patience,  senor  padre :  all  is  for  the  best, 
perhaps.  Trust  to  me.  Andres,  my  horse." 
'  "  You  will  start  at  once,  then  ?" 


"  Yes.  I  recommend  yon  to  watch  care- 
fully over  our  prisoner." 

The  monk  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Our  affairs  are  tolerably  well  embarrassed 
already ;  then  why  burden  ourselves  with  a 
woman  ?" 

The  squatter  frowned. 

"  That  is  my  business,"  he  exclaimed  in  a 
peremptory  tone.  "Keep  all  stupid  obser- 
vations to  yourself.  A  thousand  devils !  I 
know  what  I  am  about.  That  woman  will 
possibly  prove  our  safeguard  at  a  later 
date." 

And  mounting  his  horse,  Red  Cedar  gal- 
loped out  of  Santa  Fe\ 

"Hum !"  Andres  Garote  said,  as  he  watch- 
ed him  depart,  "what  a  diabolical  eye! 
Though  I  have  known  him  several  years,  I 
never  saw  him  like  that  before.  How  will 
all  this  end  ?" 

Without  further  remarks  he  arranged  mat- 
ters in  the  rancho,  repairing  as  well  as  lie 
could  the  disorder  caused  by  the  previous 
struggle ;  then  he  took  a  look  round  him. 
The  monk  sat  with  his  elbows  on  the  table, 
and  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth. 

"  Why,  senor  padre,"  the  ranchero  said  in 
an  insinuating  voice,  "do  you  know  that  it 
is  hardly  five '6' clock?" 

"Do  you  think  so?"  the  other  answered 
for  the  sake  of  saying  something. 

"Does  not  the  time  seem  to  you  to  go 
very  slowly  ?" 

"Extraordinarily  so." 

"If  you  liked  we  could  easily  shorten  it 
these." 

And  Andres  drew  from  his  boot  a  pack  of 
greasy  cards,  which  he  complacently  spread 
out  on  the  table. 

"Ah!  that  is  a  good  idea,"  the  monk  ex- 
claimed with  sparkling  eyes.  "  Let  us  have 
a  game  of  monte".  If  you  permit  me  1  will 
make  you  a  proposal." 

"Do  so,  senor. 

"This  it  is  :  we  will  play,  if  you  like,  for 
the  share  of  the  gold  we  shall  receive  when 
we  reach  the  placer." 

"  Done !"  the  ranchero  shouted  enthusias- 
tically. 

"Well,"  the  monk  said,  drawing  from  hi-s 
pocket  a  pack  of  cards  no  less  dirty  than  the 
others,  "  we  can  at  any  rate  kill  time." 

"What!  you  have  cards  too?"  the  ran- 
chero remarked. 

"Yes,  and  quite  new,  as  you  see." 

Andres  bowed  with  an  air  of  conviction. 

The  game  began  at  once,  and  soon  the  two 
men  were  completely  absorbed. 

Although  Garote  was  a  passed  master  in 
trickery,  and  displayed  all  his  science,  he 
found  in  the  monk  so  skillful  an  adversary 
that,  after  more  than  three  h:  jirs  of  an  ob- 
stinate struggle,  they  both  found  themselves 
as  little  advanced  as  at  the  outset.  The 
monk,  however,  on  coming  to  the  rancho, 
had  an  object  which  Red  Cedar  was  far 
from  suspecting. 

Fray  Ambrosio  rested  his  arms   on   the 


MUTUAL  DECEIT. 


*, 

fortu 


table,  bent  his  body  slightly  forward,  and 
while  carelessly  playing  with  the  cards, 
which  he  amused  himself  by  sorting,  he  said 
to  his  companion,  as  he  fixed  a  scrutinizing 
glance  upon  him : 

"  Shall  we  talk  a  little,  Andres  ?" 
"Willingly,"  the  latter  replied,  who  had 
partly  risen,  but  now  fell  back  on  his  chair. 
"  Seuor  Don  Andres,"  continued  the  monk, 
in  an  insinuating  voice,  "  what  a  happiness 
that  your  poor  brother,  on  dying,  revealed 
to  me  the  secret  of   the  rich  placer,  which 
he  concealed  even  from  yourself !" 

It  is  true,"  Andres  answered,   turning 

Jtly  pale  ;  "  it  was  very  fortunate.    For 
>art,  I  congratulate  myself  on  it  daily." 
s  it  not  so  ?  for  without  it  the  immense 
me  would  have  been  lost  to  you  and  all 
else." 

"It  is  terrible  to  think  of." 

"  Well,  at  this  moment  I  have  a  horrible 
fear." 

"What  is  it,  father?" 

"That  we  have  deferred  our  departure 
too  long,  and  that  some  of  those  European 
vagabonds  we  were  speaking  of  just  now 
may  have  discovered  our  placer.  Those 
bcouuclrels  have  a  peculiar  scent  for  finding 
gold." 

"  Father !"  Andres  said,  striking  the  table 
with  feigned  grief  (for  he  knew  well  what 
the  monk  was  saying  was  only  a  cleve^  way 
of  attaining  his  real  point,)  "  that  would 
drive  me  mad — an  affair  so  well  managed 
hitherto." 

"That  is  true,"  Fray  Ambrosio  said  in 
corroboration.  "I  could  never  console  my- 
self." 

"  I  have  as  great  an  interest  in  it  as  your- 
self, father,"  the  gold-seeker  replied,  with 
coolness. 

Andres  Garote  was  a  man  of  unequaled 
bravery,  gifted  with  a  fertile  and  ready  mind, 
whom  the  accidents  of  life  had  compelled 
to  live  for  a  lengthened  period  on  the  prai- 
ries, whose  paths  he  knew  as  thoroughly 
as  he  did  the  tricks  of  those  w,ho  dwelt  on 
them.  Hence,  and  for  many  other  reasons, 
Andres  Garote  was  an  invaluable  comrade 
for  Fray  Ambrosio. 

"However,"  said  the  monk,  after  an  in- 
stant's reflection,  "supposing  that  the  pla- 
cer is  intact,  and  that  no  one  has  discovered 
it,  we  shall  have  along  journey  to  reach  it." 

"Yes,"  the  ranchero  remarked,  signifi- 
cantly ;  "  the  road  is  difficult  and  broadcast 
with  perils  innumerable." 

"We  must  march  with  our  chins  on  our 
shoulders,  and  fingers  on  the  rifle-trigger." 

"Fig^ht  nearly  constantly  with  wild  beasts 
or  Indians—" 

"In  a  word,  do  you  not  belie.ve  that  the 
woman  Red  Cedar  has  carried  off  will  prove 
a  horrid  bore?" 

"Dreadfully  so,"  Andres  answered. 

"Is she  here?" 

u  Yes,"  the  gold-seeker  eaid,  pointing  to 
a  door ;  "  in  that  room." 


"  Suppose  we  restore  her  to  her  family  ?" 

"  And  they  pay  a  proper  ransom. " 

"  That  is  what  I  meant  to  say." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  But  who  is  to  undertake   this  delic 
mission?"  asked  the  monk. 

"I,"  the  ranchero  exclaimed,  his  < 
sparkling  with  greed  at  the  thought  of 
rich  ransom  he  would  demand. 

"But  if  Red  Cedar    were   to  find  out,' 
the  monk  remarked,  "  that  we  had  sui 
dered  his  prisoner?" 
Who  will  tell  him?" 
I  am  sure  I  shan't." 
'Nor  I." 

•It  is  very  easy;  the  girl  will  have  es- 
caped." 

Quite  true." 

'  Do  not  let  us  lose  time,  then. 

'  Don  Pablo  will  be  delighted  to  recover 
his  sister,  whom  he  expected  never  to  see 
again,  and  will  not  haggle  over  the  price  he 
pays  for  her  deliverance." 

Andres  Garote  rose  with  a  smile  which 
would  have  caused  the  monk  to  reflect,  hud 
he  seen  it ;  but  at  the  same  moment  the  latter 
was  rubbing  his  hands,  saying  in  a  low  voice, 
and  with  a  most  satisfied  air  : 

"  Now,  my  scamp,  I've  got  you." 

What  secret  thought  possessed  these  two 
in  on,- who  were  carrying  on  a  mutual  deceit, 
none  save  themselves  could  have  said.  The 
gold-seeker  approached  the  door  of  the 
room  where  Clara  was  confined,  and  put  the 
key  in  the  lock.  At  this  moment  two  vigor- 
ous blows  were  dealt  on  the  outer  door, 
which  had  been  carefully  bolted.  The  two 
accomplices  started. 

"  Must  I  open?"  Andres  asked. 

"Yes,"  the  monk  answered;  "hesitation 
or  refusal  might  create  alarm." 

Andres  went  to  open  the  door,  which  the 
new-comer  threatened  to  break  in.  A  man 
walked  in,  who  took  a  careful  glance  around, 
then  doffed  his  hat,  and  bowed.  The  con- 
federates exchanged  a  glance  of  vexation  on 
recognizing  him,  for  he  was  no  other  than 
Shaw,  Red  Cedar's  youngest  son. 

"I  am  afraid  I  disturb  you,  gentlemen," 
the  young  man  said,  with  an  ironical  smile. 

"Not  at  all,"  Andres  made  answer;  "on 
the  contrary,  we  are  delighted  to  see  you." 

"Thanks!" 

And  the  young  man  fell  back  into  a  chair. 

"You  are  very  late  at  Santa  F£,"  the  monk 
remarked. 

"It  is  true,"  Shaw  said,  with  some  em- 
barrassment ;  "  I  am  looking  for  my  father, 
and  fancied  I  should  find  him  here." 

"He  was  so  a  few  hours  back,  but  was 
obliged  to  leave  us." 

"Ah!" 

The  monk  and  the  miner  did  not  at  all 
understand  Shaw's  conduct,  and  lost  them- 
selves in  conjectures  as  to  the  reasons  that 
brought  him  to  town.  They  guessed  in- 
stinctively that  what  he  said  about  his 
father  was  only  a  pretext  or  means  of  intro- 


THE  TEAIL-UUNTEK. 


ductiou ;  aud  that  a  powerful  motive,  lie 
would  not  or  dare  not  avow,  had  brought 
him.  For  his  part,  the  young  man,  in  com- 
ing where  he  knew  that  Clara  was  impris- 
oifed,  expected  to  find  Andres  alone,  with 
whom  he  hoped  to  come  to  an  understand- 
ing iu  some  way  or  another.  The  presence 
of  the  monk  disturbed  all  his  plans.  Still, 
time  was  slipping  away;  he  must  make  up 
his  mind,  and,  before  all,  profit  by  Red  Ce- 
dar's providential  absence,  which  offered 
him  an  opportunity  he  could  hardly  dare  to 
hope  again. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  STORMY  DISCUSSION. 

SHAW  was  not  timid,  as  we  have  said — he 
ought  rather  to  be  accused  of  the  opposite 
excess  ;  he  was  not  the  man,  once  his.resolu- 
tion  was  formed,  lo  let  any  thing  soever  turn 
him  from  it.  His  hesitation  was  not  long ; 
he  suddenly  rose,  and  violently  stamping  his 
rifle-butt  on  the  ground,  looked  at  the  two 
men,  while  saying  in  a  firm  voice  : 

"Be  frank ;  my  presence  here  at  this  hour 
astonishes  you,  and  you  ask  yourselves  what 
cause  can  "have  brought  me.  I  will  tell 
you:  I  have  come  to  deliver  Dona  Clara." 

"  What  do  I  hear  ?"  said  Fray  Ambrosio. 

"Hum!"  the  young  man  conflfhued, 
quickly,  "believe  me,  do  not  attempt  any 
useless  resistance,  for  I  have  resolved,  if 
needs  must,  to  pass  over  your  bodies  to  suc- 
cess." 

"Pardon  me,"  the  monk  interrupted,. 
"  such  a  determination  on  your  part  natural- 
ly surprises  us." 

"  Why  so  ?"  the  young  man  said,  raising 
his  head  haughtily. 

"Because,"  Fray  Ambrosio  answered, 
tranquilly,  "  you  arc  the  son  of  Red  Cedar, 
and  it  is  at  least  strange  that — " 

"Enough  talking," ^Shaw  exclaimed,  vio- 
lently ;  "  will  yon  or  not  give  up  her  I  have 
come  to  seek?" 

"I  must  know,  in  the  first  place,  what 
you  intend  doing  with  her." 

"  How  does  that  concern  you?" 

"More  than  you  imagine.  Since  that 
girl  has  been  a  prisoner  I  constituted  my- 
self—if not  her  guardian,  for  the  dress  I 
wear  forbids  that — her  defender;  in  that 
quality  I  have  the  right  of  knowing  for  what 
reason  you,  the  son  of  the  man  who  tore  her 
from  her  family,  have  come  so  audaciously 
to  demand  her  surrender  to  you,  and  what 
your  object  is  in  acting  thus  ?" 

The  young  man  had  listened  to  these  re- 
marks with  an  impatience  that  became  mo- 
mentarily more  visible ;  it  could  be  seen 
That  he  made  superhuman  efforts  to  restrain 
himself.  When  the  monk  stopped,  he  looked 
at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  strange  expres- 
sion, then  walked  up  so  close  as  almost  to 
touch  him,  drew  a  pair  of  pistols  from  his 
girdle  and  pointed  them  at  the  monk. 


"  Surrender  Clara  to  me,"  he  said,  in  alow 
and  menacing  voice. 

Fray  Ambrosio  had  attentively  followed 
all  the  squatter's  movements,  and  when  the 
latter  put  the  pistol-muzzles  to  his  chest,  the 
monk,  with  an  action  rapid  as  lightning,  also 
drew  two  pistols  from  his  girdle,  and  placed 
them  on  his  adversary's  chest.  There  was  a 
moment  of  supreme  expectation,  of  inde- 
scribable agony  ;  the  two  men  were  motion- 
less, face  to  face,  panting,  each  with  his 
fingers  on  a  trigger,  pale,  and  their  brows 
dank  with  cold  perspiration.  Andres  Ga- 
rote,  his  lips  curled  by  an  ironical  smile, 
and  his  arms  crossed,  carelessly  leaned 
against  a  table,  watching  this  scene  which 
had  for  him  all  the  attraction  of  a  play. 

All  at  once  the  door  of  the  rancho"  which 
had  not  been  fastened  again  after  the  squat- 
ter's entry,  was  violently  thrown  back  and 
a  man  appeared ;  it  was  Father  Seraphin. 
At  a  glance  he  judged  the  position  and  bold- 
ly threw  himself  between  the  foemen,  hurl- 
ing them  back,  but  not  uttering  a  word. 
The  two  men  recoiled,  and  lowered  their 
weapons,  but  continued  to  menace  each  oth- 
er with  their  glances. 

"What!"  the  missionary  said,  in  a  deep 
voice,  "have  I  arrived  just  in  time  to  pre- 
vent a  double  murder,  gentlemen?  In 
heaven's  ruime,  hide  those  homicidal  weap- 
ons ;  do  not  stand  opposite  each  other  like 
wild  beasts  preparing  for  a  leap." 

I  wish  to  save  a  young  girl  from  his 
hands,"  Shaw  said,  "  and  restore  her  to  her 
father." 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  my  Mend  ?" 
the  missionary  asked,  with  a  secret  beating 
of  his  heart. 

"  Of  whom  should  I  speak,  save  Dona 
Clara  Zarate,  whom  these  villains  retain 
here  by  force  ?" 

"Can  it  be  possible?"  Father  Seraphiu 
exclaimed,  in  amazement.  "  Clara  here?" 

"Ask  those  men,"  Shaw  answered,  rough- 
ly, as  he  angrily  struck  the  butt  of  his  rifle 
against  the  ground. 

"Is  it  true?"  the  priest  inquired. 

"  It  is,"  the  gold-seeker  answered. 

Father  Seraphiu  frowned,  and  his  pale 
forehead  flushed. 

"Sir,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  choking  with  in- 
dignation, "I  summon  you,  in  the  name  of 
that  God  whom  you  serve,  and  whose  min- 
ister you  lay  claim  to  being,  to  restore  at 
once  to  liberty  the  hapless  girl  whom  you 
have  so  unworthily  imprisoned,  in  defiance 
of  all  laws,  human  and  divine.  I  engage  to 
deliver  her  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
bewail  her  loss." 

Fray  Ambrosio  bowed;  he  let  his  eyes 
fall,  and  said,  in  a  hypocritical  voice: 

"  Fathev,  you  are  mistaken  as  regards  my- 
self. I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  carrying 
off  of  that  poor  child,which,  on  the  contrary, 
I  opposed  to  the  utmost  of  my  power ;  and 
that  is  so  true,  father,"  he  added,  "that  at 
the  moment  when  this  young  madnian  ar- 


THOSE  PAPERS. 

the  \\  orthy  miner  and  myself  had  re- 
solved, at  all  risks,  on  restoring  her  to  her 


family." 

"I  should  wish  to  believe  you,  sir ;  if  I 
am  mistaken,  as  you  say,  you  will  forgive 
me,  for  appearances  were  against  you ;  it  on- 
ly depends  on  yourself  to  produce  a  perfect 
justification,  by  carrying  out  my  wishes." 

"You  shall  be  satisfied,  father,"  the  monk 
replied.  At  a  signal  from  him  Garote  left 
the  room.  During  the  few  words  inter- 
changed between  the  two  men,  Shaw  remain- 
ed motionless,  hesitating,  not  knowing  what 
he  ought  to  do ;  but  he  suddenly  made  up 
his  mind,  threw  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder, 
und  turned  to  the  missionary. 

"Father,"  he  said,  respectfully,  "my 
presence  is  now  needless  here.  Farewell ; 
my  departure  will  prove  to  you  the  purity 
of  my  intentions." 

And  turning  suddenly  on  his  heel,  he  Imr- 
ried  out  of  the  rancho.  A  few  moments 
after  his  departure  the  gold-seeker  returned, 
Clara  following  him. 

She  no  longer  wore  the  dress  of  the  whites, 
for  Red  Cedar,  in  order  to  render  her  un- 
recognizable, had  compelled  her  to  don  the 
Indian  garb,  which  the  maiden  wore  with 
an  innate  grace  that  hightened  its  strange 
elegance.  On  seeing  the  missionary,  Clara 
uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  rushing  toward 
him,  fell  into  his  arms,  and  murmured  in  a 
heartrending  voice : 

"Father!  save  me!  save  me!" 

"  Be  calm,  my  daughter  I"  the  priest  said 
to  her,  gently.  "  You  have  nothing  more 
to  fear,  now  that  I  am  near  you." 

"  You  see,  father,"  Fray  Ambrosio  said, 
hypocritically,  "that  I  did  not  deceive 
you." 

The  missionary  cast  at  the  monk  a  glance 
of  undefinable  meaning. 

"I  trust  that  you  spoke  truly,"  he  re- 
plied; "the  God  who  gauges  hearts  will 
judge  you  according  to  works. 

And  picking  up  a  cloak,  he  placed  it  deli- 
cately on  the  shuddering  shoulders  of  Clara, 
in  order  to  conceal  her  Indian  garb.  Father 
Seraphm  drew  her  arm  through  his  own, 
and  led  her  from  the  rancho.  Ere  long  they 
disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Fray  Ambro- 
sio looked  after  them  as  long  as  he  could 
see  them,  and  then  re-entered  the  room, 
carefully  bolting  the  door  after  him. 

"Well,"  Andres  Garote  asked  him, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  all  that  has  hap- 
pened?" 

"  Perhaps  things  are  better  as  they  are." 

"  And  Red  Cedar  ?" 

"  I  undertake  to  render  ourselves  as  white 
in  his  sight  as  snow." 

"Hum!  it  will  be  difficult." 

"Perhaps  so." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIH. 

THE  MTSTEBT. 


ON  leaving  the  Rancho  del  Coyote,  Red 
Cedar  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks, 
and  galloped  iu  a  south-western  direction. 
So  soon  as  he  was  out  of  the  town  he  turned 
to  the  left,  took  a  narrow  path  that  ran  round 
the  walls,  pulled  up  his  horse,  and  advanced 
with  the  utmost  caution.  Throwing  suspi- 
cious glances  on  either  side,  he  went  on  thus 
for  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  when 
he  reached  a  house,  in  one  of  the  windows 
of  which  burned  three  wax-tapers. 

The  lights  thus  arranged  were  evidently  a 
signal  for  the  squatter,  for  soon  as  he  came 
to  the  house  he  stopped  and  dismounted, 
attached  his  horse  to  a  larch-tree,  and  pru- 
dently concealing  himself  behind  a  thicket, 
imitated  thrice  at  equal  intervals  the  hu-hu 
of  an  owl.  The  lights  burning  in  the  win- 
dow were  extinguished,  as  if  by  enchant- 
ment. 

At  this  moment  a  voice  could  be  heard 
from  the  house  which  Red  Cedar  was  watch- 
ing so  carefully.  Tiie  squatter  listened ;  the 
speaker  leaned  for  a  second  out  of  the  win- 
dow, looked  cautiously  round,  and  disap- 
peared muttering  loud  enough  for  the  squat- 
ter to  overhear: 

"You  can  come  on,  for  you  are  expec- 
ted." 

"I  know  it;  hence  here  I  am."- 

While  making  this  answer,  Red  Cedar 
left  his  hiding-place,  and  placed  himself  be- 
fore the  door  with  folded  arms,  like  a  man 
who  has  nothing  to  fear.  The  door  was  cau- 
tiously opened ;  a  man  emerged,  carefully 
wrapped  up  in  a  wide  cloak,  which  only  al- 
lowed eyes  to  be  seen,  that  flashed  in  the 
gloom  like  a  jackal's.  This  person  walked 
straight  up  to  Red  Cedar. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  "have 
vou  reflected?" 
"   "Yes." 

"  And  what  is  the  result  of  your  reflec- 
tions?1' 

"I  refuse." 

"Take  care." 

"I  do  not  care,  Don  Melchior,  for  I  am 
not  afraid  of  you." 

"  No  names  !"  the  stranger  exclaimed, 
impatiently. 

"We  are  alone." 

"No  one  is  ever  alone  in  the  desert." 

"That  is  true,"  Red  Cedar  muttered. 

"  Listen,"  the  stranger  said,  in  a  low,  cut- 
ting voice.  "I  will  lose  no  more  of  my 
time.  Hand  Dona  Clara  over  to  me,  and  1 
will  <nve  you  the  papers  which — " 

"Enough!"  the  squatter  said,  sharply. 
"  Have  you  those  papers  about  you  ?" 

"  No,  I  have  not.  I  am  not  such  a  fool 
as  to  risk  assassination  at  your  hands." 

"  What  would  your  death  profit  me  ?" 

"  Hang  it  all,  if  it  were  only  my  scalp  you 
would  be  sure  to  receive  at  least  fifty  dollars 
for  it," 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


At  this  mournful  jest  the  squatter  began 


"I  did  not  think  of  that,"  he  said.  "Hang 
it,  though,  what  can  be  your  motive  for 
wishing  to  have  this  girl  in  your  power?" 

"  That  is  no  affair  of  yours.  I  have  no  ex- 
planations due  to  you.  Enough  for  you  to 
know  that  I  want  her." 

"  You  shall  not  have  her." 

"  We  shall  see.    Good-by,  Red  Cedar." 

"  Good-by,  Don  Melchior,  or  whatever  be 
the  name  you  please  to  bear." 

The  stranger  made  no  reply,  but  turned 
his  head  with  a  gesture  of  contempt,  and 
whistled.  A  man  emerged  from  the  house, 
holding  a  horse  by  the  bridle;  at  one  bound 
the  stranger  reached  the  saddle,  and  order- 
ed the  servant  to  withdraw. 

"Farewell,  Compadrc,  remember  our  ap- 
pointment." 

And  loosing  his  reins,  the  stranger  started 
at  a  gallop,  not  condescending  even  to  turn 
his  head.  Red  Cedar  looked  after  him  with 
an  indescribable  expression  of  rage. 

U0h,"  he  muttered,  in  a  low  voice,  "de- 
mon !  shall  I  never  free  myself  from  your 
clutches?" 

And  with  a  motion  rapid  as  thought  he 
shouldered  his  rifle,  and  aimed  at  the  de- 
parting man.  All  at  once  the  latter  turned 
his  horse,  and  stood  right  opposite  Red  Ce- 
dar. 

"  Mind  not  to  miss  me !"  he  cried,  with  a 
burst  of  laughter,  that  caused  a  cold  perspi- 
ration to  bead  on  the  bandit's  forehead. 

The  latter  let  his  rifle  fall,  saying,  in  a 
hollow  voice : 

"  He  is  right,  and  I  am  mad !  If  I  only 
luul  the  papers !" 

The  stranger  waited  for  a  moment,  calm 
;'.ud  motionless;  then  he  started  again,  and 
-oon  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Red  Ce- 
diir  stood  with  his  body  bowed  forward,  and 
his  ears  on  the  watch,  so  long  as  the  horse's 
hoofs  could  be  heard ;  then  he  returned  to 
his  own  steed,  and  bounded  into  the  saddle. 

"Now  to  go  and  warn  the  dragoons,"  he 
said,  and  pushed  on. 

The  squatter  had  scarce  departed  ere 
several  men  appeared  from  either  side ;  they 
were  Valentine,  Curumilla,  and  Don  Pablo 
on  the  right ;  Unicorn  and  Eagle-wing  on 
the  left.  Valentine  and  his  friends  were  as- 
tonished at  meeting  the  Comanche  chief, 
whom  they  believed  gone  back  to  his  camp  ; 
but  the  sachem  explained  to  them,  in  a  few 
words,  how,  at  the  moment  he  was  crossing 
the  spot  where  they  now  were,  he  had  heard 
Red  Cedar's  voice,  and  concealed  himself  in 
the  shrubs  in  order  to  overhear  the  squat- 
ter's colloquy  with  his  strange  Mend.  Val- 
entine had  done  the  same;  but  unfortunate- 
ly, the  party  had  been  greatly  disappointed, 
for  the  squatter's  conversation  remained  to 
them  an  enigma,  of  which  they  sought  the 
key  in  vain. 

*'Tis  strange,"  Valentine  remarked,  as  he 
passed  his  hand  several  times  across  bis 


forehead.  "I  do  not  know  where  1  have 
seen  the  man  just  now  talking  here  with 
Red  Cedar,  but  I  have  a  vague  reminiscence 
of  having  met  him  before,  where  and  under 
what  circumstances  I  try,  though  in  vain,  in 
recall." 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  Don  Pablo  asked. 

"Hang  it,  what  we  agreed  on ;"  and  turn- 
ing to  the  chief  he  said,  "  Good  luck,  broth- 
er, I  believe  we  shall  save  our  friend." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  the  Indian  replied,  la- 
conically. 

"  May  heaven  hear  you,  brother,"  Valen- 
tine continued.  "  Act !  while,  on  your  side, 
you  watch  the  town  for  fear  of  treason.  We 
then  will  ambush  ourselves  on  the  road  the 
gold-seeker  must  take,  in  order  to  know 
positively  the  direction  in  which  they  are 
proceeding.  Till  to-morrow,  chief  !" 

"Stop!"  a  panting  voice  exclaimed,  and 
a  man  suddenly  appeared  in  the  midst  of 
them. 

"Father  Seraphin!"  Valentine  said,  in 
surprise.  "What  chance  brings  you  this 
way?" 

"  I  was  looking  for  you." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"  To  give  you  some  good  news." 

"Speak!  speak  quickly,  father !  Has  Don 
Miguel  left  his  prison  ?" 

"Alas!  not  yet;  but  his  daughter  is 
free!" 

"Dona  Clara  free!"  Valentine  shouted, 
joyously.  "Heaven  be  blessed!  where  is 
she?" 

"She  is  temporarily  in  safety,  be  assured 
of  that ;  but  let  me  give  you  a  warning, 
which  may  perhaps  prove  useful  to  you." 

"  Speak  !  speak  !' 

"  By  order  of  the  Governor,  Red  Cedar 
has  gone  to  meet  the  regiment  of  dragoons, 
coming  up  to  reinforce  the  Santa  Fd  garri- 
son." 

""Are  you  sure  of  your  statement,  father  ?" 

"I  am;  in  my  presence,  the  men  who  car- 
ried off  Dona  Clara  spoke  about  it." 

"  All  is  lost  if  these  soldiers  arrive." 

"  Yes,"  the  missionary  said;  "but,  how 
to  prevent  it  ?" 

Curumilla  lightly  touched  the  leader's 
arm. 

"  What  do  you  want,  chief  ?" 

"The  Comanches  are  warriors,"  Curumil- 
la answered,  curtly. 

"  Ah  !"  Valentine  exclaimed,  and  tapping 
his  forehead  with  delight,  "that  is  true, 
chief;  you  save  us." 

"  While  you  go  in  pursuit  of  the  soldiers," 
said  Don  Pablo,  "as  I  can  be  of  no  service 
to  you,  I  will  accompany  Father  Seraphin  to 
my  poor  sister." 

"  Do  so,"  Valentine  answered.  "  At  day- 
break you  will  bring  Clara  to  the  camp,  that 
I  may  myself  deliver  her  to  her  father." 

"  That  is  agreed." 

Valentine,  Curumilia,  and  Unicorn  rushed 
out  in  the  plain,  while  Father  Seraphin  and 
Don  Pablo  returned  to  the  town,  Tke  two 


LASSOED. 


85 


latter,  anxious  to  join  the  girl,  did  not  per- 
jive  that  they  were  closely  watched  by  an 
idividual,  who  followed  their  every  move- 
lent,  while  careful  not  to  be  seen  by  them. 

[t  was  Nathan,  Red  Cedar's  eldest  son. 
How  was  that  man  there  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE   AMBUSCADE. 

THE  night-breeze  had  swept  the  clouds 
away ;  the  sky,  of  a  deep  azure,  was  studded 
with  an  infinity  of  stars ;  the  night  was  lim- 
pid, the  atmosphere  so  transparent  as  to 
allow  the  slightest  varieties  of  the  landscape 
to  be  distinguished.  About  four  leagues 
from  Santa  Fe,  a  numerous  band  of  horse- 
men was  following  a  path  scarce  traced  in 
the  tall  grass,  which  approached  the  town 
with  countless  turns  and  windings.  These 
horsemen,  who  marched  in  rather  decent 
order,  were  nearly  eight  hundred  in  number, 
and  formed  the  regiment  of  dragoons  so 
anxiously  expected  by  General  Ventura, 
About  ten  paces  ahead  rode  four  or  five 
~cers  gayly  chatting  together,amongvyhoui 
the  colonel.  The  regiment  continued 
march  slowly,  advancing  cautiously, 
rough  fear  of  losing  its  way  in  a  perfectly 
range  country.  The  colonel  and  his  officers 
o  had  always  fought  in  the  States  border- 
the  Atlantic,  found  themselves  now  for 
,e  first  time  in  these  savage  countries. 
The  colonel  suddenly  remarked,  "  I  con- 
to  you  that  I  am  completely  ignorant 
as  to  our  whereabouts.  Can  any  one  of 
you  throw  a  light  on  the  subject  ?  This 
,d  is  fearful ;  it  seems  to  lead  nowhere, 
d  I  am  afraid  we  have  lost  our  way." 
"  We  are  all  as  ignorant  as  yourself  on  that 
ad,  colonel,"  an  officer  answered  ;  "  not 
e  of  us  could  say  where  we  are." 
"  Give  the  order  to  halt." 
The  officer  immediately  obeyed ;  the 
Idiers,  wearied  with  a  long  night's  march, 
ted  with  shouts  of  joy  the  order  to  stop, 
ey  dismounted.  The  horses  were  unsad- 
ed  and  picketed,  camp-fires  were  lighted, 
d  in  less  than  an  hour  the  bivouac  was 

nged. 

The  colonel,  in  desiring  to  camp  for  the 
ght,  had  a  more  serious  fear  than  that  of 
'Sing  his  way  ;  It  was  that  of  falling  in  with 
a  party  of  Indios  bravos.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  was  unaware  that  the  Governor  of  Santa 
Fe"  had  such  pressing  need  of  his  presence, 
and  this  authorized  him  in  acting  with  the 
utmost  precaution.  Still,  so  soon  as  the 
bivouac  was  established,  and  the  sentinels 
posted,  the  colonel  sent  off  a  dozen  resolute 
men  under  a  sergeant,  to  trot  up  the 
country  and  try  to  procure  the  assistance  of 
a  guide. 

The  little  squad  had  started  at  a  gallop, 
-.t  it  soon  reduced  its  pace,  and  the  soldiers 
t  began  laugUing  and  talking, 


caring  little  for  the  important  mission  with 
which  they  were  intrusted.  A  majestic  si- 
lence hovered  over  the  plain,  only  disturbed 
at  intervals  by  those  sounds,  without  any 
known  cause,  which  are  heard  on  the  savan- 
nas, and  which  seem  to  be  the  respiration 
of  the  sleeping  world.  Suddenly  the  mock- 
ing-bird sung  twice,  and  its  plaintive  and 
soft  song  resounded  melodiously  through  the 
air. 

u  Hallo,"  one  of  the  dragoons  said,  ad- 
dressing his  comrade,  "  that's  a  bird  that 
sings  very  late." 

"An  evil  omen,"  the  other  said  with  a 
shake  of  his  head. 

At  this  moment  the  song,  which  appeared 
previously  some  distance  off,  could  be  heard 
much  more  close,  and  seemed  to  come  from 
some  trees  on  the  side  of  the  path  the  dra- 
goons were  following.  The  sergeant  raised 
his  head  and  stopped  ;  but  all  became  silent 
again,  so  he  shook  his  head  and  continued 
his  conversation.  The  detachment  had 
been  out  more  than  an  hour.  During  this 
long  stroll,  the  soldiers  had  discovered 
nothing  suspicious.  The  officer  was  about 
to  give  orders  to  return  to  camp,  when  one 
of  the  troopers  pointed  out  to  him  some 
heavy,  black  forms,  apparently  prowling 
about  unsuspiciously. 

"  What  on  earth  can  that  be  ?"  the  officer 
asked,  after  carefully  examining  what  was 
pointed  out  to  him. 

"  (Jaspita"  one  of  the  dragoons  exclaim- 
ed, "  that  is  easy  to  see  ;  they  are  browsing 
deer!" 

"Deer!"  said  the  sergeant,  in  whom  the 
hunter's  instinct  was  suddenly  aroused, 
"  there  are  at  least  thirty;  suppose  we  try 
to  lasso  them." 

The  dragoons,  delighted  at  the  opportu- 
nity of  indulging  in  their  favorite  sport,  dis- 
mounted, fastened  their  horses  to  the  road- 
side trees  and  seized  their  lassos.  On  ar- 
riving at  a  short  distance  from  the  game,  the 
dragoons  separated  in  order  to  have  room 
for  whirling  their  lassos,  and  making  a  cov- 
ering of  each  tree,  they  managed  to  approach 
within  fifteen  paces  of  the  animals. 

A  strange  thing  happened  at  this  moment, 
however.  All  the  deer-hides  fell  simultane- 
ously to  the  ground,  displaying  Valentine. 
Curumilla,  and  a  dozen  Comanche  warriors, 
who,  profiting  by  the  stupor  of  the  troop- 
ers at  their  extraordinary  metamorphosis, 
hunted  the  hunters  by  throwing  lassos  over 
their  shoulders  and  hurled  them  to  the 
ground.  The  ten  dragoons  and  their  leader 
were  prisoners. 

"  Well,  my  friends,"  Valentine  said  with 
a  grin,  ''how  do  you  like  that  sort  of 
fun?" 

The  startled  dragoons  made  no  reply, 
but  allowed  themselves  to  be  bound:  one 
alone  muttered  between  his  teeth : 

"  I  was  sure  that  villain  of  a  mocking- 
bird would  bring  us  ill-luck :  it  sung  on  our 
left.  Tliat  never  deceives,  Canarios  /" 


THE  TRAIL 


IL-HUNT1 


Valentine  smiled  at  this  sally.  He  then 
placed  two  lingers  in  his  mouth  and  imitat- 
ed the  cry  of  the  mocking-bird  with  such 
perfection,  that  the  soldier  looked  up  at 
the  tree.?,  lie  had  scarce  cuded,  when  a 
rustling  was  heard  among  the  bushes,  and  a 
man  leaped  between  the  hunters  and  their 
prisoners.  It  was  Eagle-wing,  the  sachem 
of  the  Coras. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

V    I'KIENDLY    DISCUSSION. 

AFTER  leaving  his  enemy  (for  the  myste- 
rious man  with  whom  he  had  so  stormy  a  dis- 
cussion could  be  nothing  else),  Red  Cedar  set 
out  to  join  the  regiment,  and  hasten  its  ar- 
rival according  to  the  orders  he  had  received. 
In  spite  of  himself,  the  squatter  was  suffer- 
ing from  extraordinary  nervousness.  What- 
ever might  be  the  reason,  it  was  a  very  potent 
one  ;  for  after  a  few  minutes  of  deep  thought, 
his  hands  let  go  the  reins  and  his  head  fell 
on  his  breast:  at  length  he  raised  it  and 
shouted,  as  he  directed  a  savage  glance  at 
the  starlit  sky,  "  Any  struggle  with  that  de- 
mon is  impossible.  I  must  fly,  so  soon  as 
practicable,  to  the  prairies  of  the  far  west. 
•General  Ventura  must  seek  another  emis- 
sary, for  more  important  matters  claim  my 
attention,  i  must  go  to  the  Rancho  del  Co- 
yote, for  there  alone  shall  I  find  my  revenge. 
Fray  Auibrosio  and  his  prisoner  can  supply 
me  with  the  weapons  I  need  for  the  terrible 
contest  I  am  compelled  to  wage  against  that 
demon." 

After  having  uttered  these  words  in  a  low 
voice,  in  the  fashion  of  men  wont  to  live  in 
solitude,  Red  Cedar  appeared  to  regain  all 
his  boldness  and  energy.  He  looked  savage- 
ly around,  and,  burying  his  spurs  in  his 
horse's  Hanks,  he  started  with  the  speed  of 
an  arrow  in  the  direction  of  the  rancho. 

The  monk  and  the  gambusino,  delighted  at 
the  unexpected  termination  of  the  scene 
we  recently  narrated,  delighted  above  all  at 
having  got  rid  of  Dona  Clara  without  be- 
ing immediately  mixed  up  in  her  escape, 
tranquilly  resumed  their  game  of  moittc.  In 
the  midst  of  a  most  interesting  game,  they 
heard  the  furious  gallop  of  a  horse  up  the 
paved  street.  Instinctively  they  stopped 
and  listened:  a  secret  foreboding  seemed  to 
warn  them  that  this  horse  was  coming  to 
the  rancho,  and  that  its  rider  wanted  them. 

In  truth,  neither  Fray  Auibrosio  nor  An- 
dres Garote  had  a  quiet  conscience,  even 
supposing,  which  was  very  doubtful,  that 
either  had  a  conscience  at  all,  for  they  felt 
that  they  were  responsible  to  Red  Cedar  for 
Dona  Clara. 

The  horse  stopped  short  before  the  ran- 
cho ;  a  man  dismounted,  and  the  door  shook 
beneath  the  tremendous  blows  of  his  nsts. 

"Hum!"  Andres  whispered,  as  he- 
blew  out  the  solitary  candle  that  illumined 
the  room.  "  Who  the  deuce  can  come  at 


this  advanced  hour  of  the  night?  I  Lave  a 
great  mind  not  to  open." 

IStrauge  to  say,  Fray  Ambrosio  had  ap- 
parently regained  all  his  serenity.  With  a 
smiling  face,  crossed  arms,  and  back  leaned 
against  the  wall,  he  seemed  to  be  a  perfect 
stranger  to  what  perplexed  his  mate  so  fu- 
riously. At  Garote' s  remark  an  ironical 
smile  played  round  his  pale  iips  for  a  second, 
and  he  replied  with  the  most  perfect  indif- 
ference : 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  act  as  you  please, 
still  I  think  it  my  duty  to  warn  you  of  one 
thing." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"That,  if  you  do  not  open  your  door,  the 
man,  whoever  he  may  be,  now  battering  it, 
is  very  capable  of  breaking  it  in,  which 
would  be  a  decided  nuisance  for  you." 

"You  speak  very  much  at  your  ease," 
the  gambusino  answered,  ill-temperedly. 
"  Suppose  it  be  Red  Cedar  ?" 

"  The  greater  reason  to  open  the  door.  If 
you  hesitate,  he  will  begin  to  suspect  you: 
and  then  take  care,  for  he  is  a  man  capable 
of  killing  you  like  a  dog." 

"  Will  you  opeu  ?"  a  rough  voice  shouted. 

"Red  Cedar  !"  both  men  whispered. 

"  I  am  coming,"  Andres  replied,  in  a 
voice  which  terror  caused  to  tremble. 

He  rose  unwillingly,  and  walked  slowly 
toward  the  door,  which  the  squatter  threat- 
ened to  tear  from  its  hinges. 

"  Make  haste  !"  he  howled,  "  for  I  am  in  a 
hurry." 

"Hum!  it  is  surely  he!"  the  gambusiuo 
thought.  "  Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  What !  who  am  1 5"'  Red  Cedar  exclaim- 
ed, bounding  with  wrath.  "Did  you  not 
recognize  me,  or  are  you  having  a  game  with 
me  ?" 

"  I  never  have  a  game  with  any  one,"  An- 
dres replied,  imperturbably  :  "but  I  warn 
you  that,  although  I  fancy!  recognfze  your 
voice,  I  shall  not  open  till  you  mention  your 
name.  The  night  is  too  far  advanced  for  me 
to  risk  receiving  a  suspicious  person  into  my 
house." 

"  I  will  break  the  door  down." 

"  Try  it,"  the  gambusino  shouted  boldly, 
"  and  by  our  Lady  of  Pilar  I  will  send  a  bul- 
let through  your  head." 

At  this  threat  the  squatter  rushed  against 
the  door  in  incredible  fury,  with  the  evident 
intention  of  breaking  it  in  ;  but,  contrary  to 
his  expectations,  though  it  creaked  and 
groaned  on  its  hinges,  it  did  not  give  way. 
Andres  Garote  had  indulged  in  a  line  of 
reasoning  which  was  far  from  being  illogical, 
and  revealed  a  profound  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  lie  had  said  to  himself,  that, 
as  he  must  face  Red  Cedar's  auger,  it  would 
be  better  to  let  it  reach  its  paroxysm  at 
once,  so  as  to  have  only  the  decreasing 
period  to  endure.  He  smiled  at  the  squat- 
ter's sterile  attempts,  then,  and  repeated  his 
request. 

"Well,  then,"  the    other  said,  furiously, 


A  TRAGEDY. 


87 


IMJ 

wat( 

ham 


"  I  am   Red  Cedar.     Do  you  recognize  me 
now  ?" 

"  Of  course  ;  I  see  that  I  can  open  with- 
out danger." 

And  the  ranchero  hurriedly  drew  back  the 
bolts.  Red  Cedar  ru>hed  into  the  room  with 
a  yell  of  fury,  but  Andres  had  put  out  the 
light.  The  "squatter  stopped,  surprised  by 
the  gloom  which  prevented,  him  distitfg&iah- 
ing  any  object. 

"  Hallo  !"  he  said.  >%  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  darkness  'J.  \  eau  see  nothing."1 

"  Caspita  /"  Andres  replied,  impudently, 
"  do  you  think  1  amuse  myseit"  o'  nights  by 

atching   the  moon  ?    I  was  asleep,  when 
u  ean.e  to  arouse   me  with  your  infernal 
raering." 

That  is  possible,"  the  squatter  remarked  ; 
l<  but  there  was  no  reason  for  keeping  me  so 
long  at  your  door." 

41  Prudence  is  the  mother  of  security. 
We  must  not  let  every  comer  into  the 
rancho." 

11  Hum  !"  the  squatter  snorted,  suspicious- 
ly ;  light  the  candle." 

Andres  struck  a  match,  and  Red  Cedar 
looked  eagerly  round  the  room ;  but  Fray 
Ambrosio  had  disappeared. 

"Where  is  the  monk?"  Red  Cedar 
asked. 

"  I  do  not  know  :  probably  gone." 

The  squatter  shook  his  head 

"All  this  is  not  clear,"  he  muttered; 
"  there  is  treachery  behind  it.'1 

"  That  is  possible,"  Andres  answered, 
calmly. 

Red  Cedar  bent  on  Andres  eyes  that  flash- 
ed with  fury,  and  roughly  seized  him  by  the 
throat, 

"Answer,  scoundrel!"  he  fhouted. 
"What  has  become  of  Dona  Clara  !" 

"I  do  not  know." 

The  squatter  squeezed  more  tightly. 

:•' You  do  not  know!"  he  yelled. 
"No!"  Andres  whined,  "1    tell  you    I  do 

t  know." 

"  Malediction!"  Red  Cedar  went  on.  "I 
will  kill  you,  if  you  are  obstinate." 

"  Let  that  man  go,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
you  wish  to  know,"  was  said  in  a  firm  voice 
by  a  hunter,  who  at  this  moment  appeared 
oh  the  threshold. 

The  two  men  turned  in  amaxement. 

H  Nathan  !"  Red  Cedar  touted  on  recog- 
nizing his  son.  u  What  are  you  doing 

"I  will  tell  you,  father,"  the  young  man 
Miid,  as  he  entered  the  room. 


i  11  AFTER  XLI. 
NA  m  \\. 

NATHAN  was  not  asleep,  as  Ellen  supposed, 
when  she  urged  on  Shaw  to  devote  himself 
to  liberate  Clara,  and  ho  had  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  conversation.  Since  the  fatal 


night,  when  the,  chief  of  the  Coras  had 
avenged  himself  for  the  burning  of  his  vil- 
lage and  the  murder  of  its  inhabitants, 
Nathan's  character  had  grown  still  more 
gloomy  ;  he  had  sworniuhis  heart  to  avenge 
on  those  who  fell  into  his  hands  the  injury 
one  man  had  inflicted  on  him ;  in  a  word, 
Nathan  loved  none  and  hated  every  thing. 

When  Shaw  had  disappeared  among  the 
bushes,  and  Ellen,  after  taking  a  final  glance 
around  to  convince  herself  that  all  was  in 
order,  re-entered  the  hut  that  served  her  as 
a  shelter,  Nathan  rose  cautiously,  threw  hi.s 
rifle  over  his  shoulder,  and  rushed  after  his 
brother. 

Convinced  of  the  importance  of  the  affair, 
and  knowing  tine,  value  his  father  attached 
lo  carrying  off  the  maiden,  who  was  a  most 
precious  hostage  for  him,  Nathan  did  not 
lose  a  moment,  but  bounded  with  the  agili- 
ty of  a  tiger-cat  over  the  obstacles  that  be- 
set his  path.  Presently,  he  reached  an  is- 
olated house,  not  far  from  which  several 
men  were  conversing  together  in  a  low 
voice.  Nathan  stopped  and  listened;  he 
recognized  well-known  men,  and  his  mind 
was  at  once  made  up. 

lie  laid  himself  on  the  ground,  and  ad- 
vanced, inch  by  inch,  crawling  like  a  serpent. 
At  length  he  reached  a  clump  of  Peru  tree:-, 
only  a  few  yards  distant  from  the  spot  where 
the  men  were  standing.  His  expectations 
were  not  deceived  ;  though  a  few  words  es- 
caped him  here  and  there,  he  was  near 
enough  perfectly  to  catch  the  sense  of  the 
conference.  A  sinister  smile  lit  up  his  face, 
and  he  eagerly  clenched  the  barrel  of  his 
rifle. 

Presently  the  party  broke  into  two.  Val- 
entine, Curuinilla,  and  L'nieorn,  took  the 
road  leading  to  the  country,  while  Don  Pa- 
blo and  Father  Seraphin  returned  toward 
Santa  Fe. 

So  soon  as  they  were  gone,  Nathan  drew 
two  or  three  deep  breaths,  and  started  in 
pursuit  of  Don  Pablo  and  the  missionary, 
with  whom  he  soon  caught  up. 

They  walked  quickly,  like  persons  anxious 
to  reach  a  place  where  they  know  they  are 
expected,  exchanging  but  a  few  words  at 
intervals,  whose  "meaning,  however,  caught 
up  by  the  man  who  followed  them,  urged 
him  still  more  not  to  let  them  out  of  siglit. 
They  thus  traversed  the  greater  part  of  the 
town,  until  reaching  their  destination — a 
house  of  handsome  aspect. 

A  weak  light  burned  at  the  window  of  a 
ground-floor  room.  By  an  instinctive  move- 
ment, the  two  men  turned  round  at  the  mo- 
ment of  entering  the  house,  but  Nathan  had 
slipped  into  a  doorway,  and  they  did  not 
perceive  him.  Father  Scraphin  tapped  gent  - 
ly  ;  the  door  was  at  once  opened,  and  they 
went  iu.  Nathan  stationed  himself  in  the 
middle  of  the  street,  with  his  eyes  ardently 
fixed  on  the  only  window  of  the  house  lit 
up.  Ere  long,  shadows  crossed  the  cur- 
tains. 


85 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


"  Good !"  the  young  man  mattered ;  "  but 
how  to  warn  the  old  one  that  the  dove  is  in 
her  nest?" 

All  at  once,  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  his 
shoulder,  and  Nathan  turned,  fiercely  clutch- 
ing a  bowie-knife.  A  man  was  before  him, 
gloomy,  sile.nt,  and  wrapped  in  the  thick 
folds  of  his  cloak. 

"  Go  your  way,"  he  said,  in  a  menacing 
voice. 

"Nonsense,  you  are  mad;  the  road  be- 
longs to  all.  This  place  suits  me,  and  I 
shall  remain." 

"  I  wish  to  be  alone  here." 

"You  mean  to  kill  me,  then?' 

"If  I  must,  yes,  without  hesitation." 

The  two  speakers  had  exchanged  these 
words  in  a  low  and  hurried  voice,  in  less 
time  than  we  have  employed  to  write  them. 
They  stood  but  a  few  paces  apart,  with 
flashing  eyes,  ready  to  rush  on  each  other. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Nathan,  drawing  a  knife 
from  his  boot. 

"  Then  your  blood  will  be  on  your  own 
head." 

"  Or  on  yours,"  Nathan  replied. 

The  two  foemen  each  fell  back  a  pace,  and 
stood  on  guard,  their  cloaks  rolled  round 
their  left  arms.  The  moon,  vailed  by 
clouds,  shed  no  light ;  midnight  struck  from 
the  cathedral.  Suddenly  Nathan  uttered  a 
hoarse  yell,  rushed  on  his  enemy,  and  threw 
his  cloak  in  his  face,  to  put  him  off  his 
guard.  The  stranger  parried  the  stroke 
dealt  him,  and  replied  by  another,  warded 
off  with  equal  dexterity.  The  two  men 
then  seized  each  other  round  the  waist,  and 
wrestled  for  some  minutes,  without  utter- 
ing a  word ;  at  length  the  stranger  rolled  ou 
the  ground  with  a  heavy  sigh;  Nathan's 
knife  was  buried  in  his  chest.  He  rose 
with  a  yell  of  triumph — his  enemy  was  mo- 
tionless. 

"  Can  I  have  killed  him  ?"  he  muttered. 

He  returned  his  knife  to  his  boot,  and 
bent  over  the  wounded  man.  All  at  once 
he  started  back,  for  he  had  recognized  his 
brother  Shaw. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  now  ?"  he  said ;  but 
then  added  carelessly,  "Pshaw!  all  the 
worse  for  him.  Why  did  he  come  across 
my  path  ?  Well,  heaven  knows,  I  ought 
not,  and  could  not  have  hesitated." 

Shaw  lay  to  all  Appearance  dead,  with  pale 
and  drawn  cheeks,  in  the  center  of  the 
street. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE   WOUNDED  MAN. 


NATHAN  proceeded  straight  to  the  Ran- 
cho  del  Coyote,  where  his  unexpected  ar- 
rival was  a  blessing  for  Andres  Garote, 
whom  the  old  squatter  was  treating  very 
roughly.  On  hearing  his  son's  words,  Red 
Cedar  let  go  of  the  gambusino,  who  tottered 
back  against  the  wall. 


Well,"  he  said,  "where  is  Dona  Clara?" 
'  Come  with  me,  father,"  the  young  man 
answered;  "I  will  lead  you  to  .her." 
'  You  know  her  hiding-place,  then  ?" 
'  Yes." 
'And  so  do  I,"  Fray  Ambrosio  shouted, 

he  rushed  into  the  room  with  discomposed 
features  ;  "I  felt  sure  I  should  discover 
her." 

Red  Cedar  looked  at  him  in  amazement, 
but  the  monk  did  not  wince. 

"  What  has  happened  to  her  ?"  the  squat- 
ter said,  presently,  as  he  looked  suspicious- 
ly from  the  monk  to  the  gambusino. 

"A  very  simple  matter,"  Fray  Ambrosio 
answered,  with  an  inimitably  truthful  ac- 
cent ;  about  two  hours  back  your  son  Shaw 
came  here." 

"Goon." 

"  Very  good.  He  presented  himself  lo 
us  as  coming  from  you  to  remove  our  pris- 
oner." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?"  the  squatter 
asked,  impatiently. 

"What  could  we  do ?" 

"  Why,  oppose  the  girl's  departure." 

"Do  you  fancy  »ve  let  her  go  so?"  the 
monk  asked,  inperturbably. 

The  squatter  looked  at  him  in  surprise — 
he  no  longer  understood  any  thing.  Like 
all  men  of  action,  discussion  was  to  him  al- 
most a  matter  of  impossibility :  especially 
with  an  adversary  so  crafty  as  the  one  he 
had  before  him.  Deceived  by  the  monk's 
coolness  and  the  apparent  frankness  of  his 
answers,  he  wished  to  make  an  end  of  it. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "how  did  all  this  fin- 
ish?" 

"  Thanks  to  an  ally  who  came  to  your 
son's  help,  and  to  whom  we  were  obliged  to 
bow — " 

"  An  ally  !  What  man  can  be  so  bold  as  to 
dare—" 

"  Eh !"  the  monk  sharply  interrupted  Red 
Cedar,  "  that  man  is  a  priest,  to  whom  you 
have  already  bowed  many  a  time." 

"  You  are  jesting,"  the  squatter  exclaim- 
ed savagely. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  Had  it  been 
any  one  else,  I  should  have  resisted ;  but  I, 
too,  belong  to  the  Church  ;  and  as  Father 
Scraphin  is  my  superior,  I  was  forced  to 
obey  him." 

"What!"  the  squatter  said,  with  a  groan, 
"  is  he  not  dead  ?" 

"It  appears,"  the  monk  remarked,  ironi- 
cally, "as  if  those  you  kill  are  nil  in  a  good 
state  of  health,  Red  Cedar." 

At  this  allusion  to  Don  Pablo's  death,  the 
squatter  stifled  a  cry  of  anger,  clenched 
his  fists,  and  said  :  "If  1  do  not  always  kill, 
1  know  how  to  take  my  revenge.  Where  it- 
Dona  Clara  at  this  moment  ?" 

"In  a  house  no  great  distance  from  here," 
Nathan  answered. 

"Good!"  said  Red  Cedar;  "  as  the  dove 
is  in  her  nest,  we  shall  be  able  to  find  her. 
What  o'clock  is  it?" 


A  SHUDDEE. 


"  Three  in  the  morning,"  Andree  inter- 
jected. "Day  will  soon  break." 

"  We  must  make  haste,  then.  Follow  me, 
all  of  you.  Then  he  added,  "But  what  has 
become  of  Shaw  ?  Does  any  oue  of  you 
know?" 

"  You  will  probably  tiud  him  at  the  doer 
of  Clara's  house,"  Nathan  said,  hi  a  hollow 
voice. 

"How  so?  Has  my  son  entered  into  a 
compact  with  my  enemies  ?" 

"  Yes ;  as  he  arranged  with  them  to  carry 
off  your  prisoner." 

"Oh !  I  will  kill  him  if  he  prove  a  trai- 
tor !"  the  squatter  shouted  with  an  accent 
that  made  the  blood  run  cold  in  the  veins  of 
bis  hearers. 

"That  is  done,"  Nathau  said,  harshly. 
"  Shaw  tried  to  stub  me,  so  I  killed  him." 

After  these  mournful  words,  there  was  a 
moment  of  silence  in  the  rancho.  All  these 
men,  though  their  hearts  were  steeled  by 
crime,  shuddered  involuntarily.  The  squat- 
ter passed  his  hard  hand  over  his  dank 
brow.  A  sigh,  like  a  howl,  painfully  forced 
its  way  from  his  oppressed  chest. 

"  He  was  my  last  born,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  an  emotion  which  he  could  not 
control.  "  He  deserved  death,  but  he  ought 
not  to  have  received  it  at  his  brother's 
hands." 

"Tather!"  Nathan  muttered. 

"Silence!"  Red  Cedar  shouted,  in  a  hol- 
low voice,  as  he  stamped  his  foot  passionate- 
ly on  the  ground ;  "  what  is  done  can  not  be 
undone;  but,  woe  to  my  enemy's  family!" 

After  uttering  these  words,  he  said  to  his 
mates,  in  a  hollow  voice  : 

"Let  us  be  off!  We  have  wasted  too 
much  time  here  already  !" 

And  he  left  the  raucho,  the  others  follow- 
ing close  at  his  heels. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Don  Pablo  and  Father 
Seraphin  were  with  Clara.  The  priest  had 
taken  the  maiden  to  the  house  of  an  honest 
family  which  owed  him  great  obligations, 
and  was  too  happy  to  receive  the  poor  suf- 
ferer. 

Dona  Clara  had  been  placed  in  a  comfort- 
able room  by  her  hosts.  The  maiden,  worn 
out  by  the  poignant  emotions  of  the  scene 
ehe  had  witnessed,  was  on  the  point  of  re- 
tiring to  bed,  when  Father  Seraphin  and 
Don  Pablo  tapped  at  the  door  of  her  room, 
tine  hastily  opened  it,  and  the  sight  of  her 
brother,  whom  she  had  not  hoped  to  see  so 
speedily,  overwhelmed  her  with  joy. 

An  hour  soon  slipped  away  in  pleasant 
chat.  Don  Pablo  was  careful  not  to  tell  his 
eister  of  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen 
their  father.  Then,  as  the  night  was  ad- 
vancing, the  two  men  withdrew,  so  as  to 
allow  her  to  enjoy  that  rest  so  needed  to 
strengthen  her  for  the  journey  home.  Fa- 
ther Seraphin  offered  Don  Pablo  to  pass  the 
night  with  him  by  sharing  the  small  lodging 
he  had  not  far  from  there,  and  the  young 
man  eagerly  accepted.  After  a  leave- taking, 


they,  therefore,  left  the  house,  and,  so  soon 
as  they  were  gone,  Clara  threw  herself,  ready 
dressed,  into  a  hammock  hanging  at  one  end 
of  the  room,  when  she  speedily  fell  asleep. 

On  reaching"  the  street,  Don  Pablo  saw  a 
body  lying  motionless  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  he  asked,  in  surprise. 

"A  poor  wretch  whom  robbers  have  killed 
in  order  to  plunder  him,"  the  missionary 
answered. 

"That  IP  possible." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  not  quite  dead,"  the  mis- 
sionary went  on;  "it  is  our  duty  to  succor 
him." 

"As  you  please,"  Don  Pablo  said,  as  he 
followed  him. 

Shaw,  for  it  was  he,  gave  no  signs  of  life. 
The  missionary  examined  him,  then  rose 
hastily,  seized  Don  Pablo's  arm,  and  drew 
him  to  him,  as  he  whispered  : 

"Look!" 

"Shaw!"  the  Mexican  exclaimed,  in  sur- 

Erise ;  "  what  could  that  man  be  doing 
ere?" 

"  Help  me,  and  we  shall  learn.  The  poor 
fellow  has  only  fainted ;  and  the  loss  of 
blood  has  produced  this  semblance  to 
death." 

Don  Pablo,  greatly  perplexed  by  this  sin- 
gular meeting,  obeyed  the  missionary,  with- 
out further  remark.  The  two  men  raised 
the  wounded  lad,  and  carried  him  gently  to 
Father  Seraph  in1  s  lodging,  where  they  pro- 
posed to  give  him  all  the  help  his  condition 
required. 

They  had  scarce  turned  the  corner  of  the 
street,  when  several  men  appeared  at  the 
other  extremity.  They  were  Red  Cedar  and 
his  confederates.  On  arriving  in  front  of 
the  house  they  stopped:  all  the  windows 
were  in  the  deepest  obscurity. 

"  Which  is  the  girl's  room':1"  the  squatter 
asked  in  a  whisper. 

"This  one,"  Nathan  said,  as  he  pointed  to 
it. 

Red  Cedar  crawled  up  to  the  house,  drove 
his  dagger  into  the  wall,  raised  himself  to 
the  window,  and  placed  his  face  against  a 
pane. 

"All  is  well!  she  sleeps!"  he  said,  when 
he  came  down.  "  You,  Fray  Ambrosio,  to 
one  corner  of  the  street;  you,  Garote,  to 
the  other;  and  do  not  let  me  be  surprised." 

The  monk  and  the  miner  went  to  their 
allotted  posts.  When  Red  Cedar  was  alone 
with  his  son  he  bent  and  whispered  in  his 
ear: 

"  What  did  you  do  with  your  brother  ?" 

1 1  left  him  on  the  spot  where  he  fell." 

"  Where  was  that?" 

"Just  where  we  now  stand." 

The  squatter  stooped  down  to  the  ground, 
and  walked  a  few  steps,  carefully  examining 
the  bloody  traces  leit  on  the  pebbles. 

"He  has  been  carried  off,"  he  said,  when 
he  rose  again.  "  Perhaps  he  is  not  dead." 

Then  they  prepared  to  escalade  the  win- 
dow. 


THE  TRAIL- HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

INDIAN   DIPLOMACY. 

WE  will  return,  for  the  present,  to  Valen- 
tine and  his  comrades. 

The  sudden  apparition  of  the  sachem  of 
the  Coras  had  produced  a  certain  degree  of 
•emotion  among  the  hunters  and  the Coman- 
•ches.  Valentine,  the  first  to  recover  from 
his  surprise,  addressed  Eagle-wing. 

"My  brother  is  welcome,"  he  said,  as  he 
held  out  his  hand,  which  the  Indian  warmly 
pressed.  "  What  news  does  the  chief  bring 
us?" 

"Good,"  the  Coras  answered  laconically. 

"My  brother  can  speak,"  Valentine  con- 
tinued; "he  is  surrounded  by  none  but 
friends." 

"I  know  it,"  the  chief  answered,  as  In- 
bowed  gracefully  to  the  company.  "Since 
J  left  my  brother  two  months  have  pa.-sed 
away:  1  have  worn  out  many  moccasins 
amid  the  thorns  and  brambles  of  the,  desert: 
I  have  been  beyond  the  Cireat  Lakes  to  the 
villages  of  my  nation." 

"Good;  my  brother  is  a  chief;  he  was 
.doubtless  well  received  by  the  sachems  of 
the  Coras  of  the  Great  Lakes." 

"Mookapec  is  a  renowned  warrior  among 
his  people,"  the  Indian  answered  proudly"; 
•"his  place  by  the  council-lire  of  the  nation 
.is  pointed  out  The  chief's  saw  him  with  joy." 

The  hunter's  comrades  had  drawn  nearer, 
and  now  formed  a  circle  round  the  t\vo 
speakers.  Curuniilla  was  occupied  silently, 
.as  was  his  wont,  in  completely  stripping 
each  Spanish  prisoner,  whom  he  then  bound 
in  such  away  that  the  slightest  movement 

was  Impossible. 

Valentine,  although  time  pressed,  knew 
too  well  the  Red-skin  character  to  try  and 
hurry  Eagle-wing  on.  lie  felt  certain  that 
the  chief  had  important  news  to  communi- 
cate, to  him;  but  it  would  have  been  no  use 
trying  to  draw  it  from  him  ;  hence  he  al- 
lowed him  to  act  as  he  pleased.  rnic.orn, 
leaning  on  his  rille,  listened  attentively, 
without  evincing  the  slightest  impatience." 
"Goon,  chief/'  Valentine  said. 
'They  assembled  in  council  to  hear  the 
words  of  Eagle-wing."  the  Coras  continued. 
'They  shuddered  with  fury  on  hearing  of 
the  massacre  of  their  children;  but  Mooka- 
pec had  formed  his  plan,  and  two  hundred 
warriors  are  assembled  beneath  his  lote.m." 

"Good!"  said  Valentine,  "the  chief  will 
avenge  himself." 
The  Indian  smiled. 

"Yes,"  he  said,   "my  yoiuig   men  have, 
their  orders,  they  know  what  I  mean  to  do." 
"Very  good!    in  that  case   they  are  near 
here  ?" 

"No,"  the  chief  replied,  with  a  shake  ol 
his  head.  "Eagle-wing  does  .not  march 
with  them ;  he  lias  hidden  hinit-elf  under 
the  skin  of  an  Apache  dog." 

"What  does  my  brother  say?"  Valentine 
asked,  with  amazement. 


"My  white  brother  is  quick;  his  nation 
is  great,"  Unicorn  interposed;  "it  does 
not  need  to  march  along  hidden  paths.  The 
poor  Indians  are  weak  as  the  beaver,  but 
like  him  they  are  very  cunning." 

"That  is  true,"  Valentine  replied;  "cun- 
ning must  be  allowed  you  in  dealing  with 
the  implacable  enemies  who  surround  jou. 
I  was  wrong ;  so  go  on,  chief ;  tell  us  what 
deviling  you  have  invented,  and  if  it  is  in- 
genious—well, I  will  be  the  first  to  applaud 

'"Wan,  my  brother  shall  judge.  Red 
Cedar  is  about  to  enter  the  desert,  as  my 
brother  doubtless  knows  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Does  my  brother  know  that  he  has 
asked  the  Apaches  for  a  guide  ?" 

"No,  I  did  not." 

"  Good.  Stanapat,  the  great  chief  of  the 
Apaches,  sent  a  Navajoe  warrior  to  act  as 
guide  to  lied  Cedar." 

"Well?" 

"  The  Navajoe  was  scalped  by  Eagle- 
wing." 

"Ah,  ah!  then  Red  Cedar  can  not  set 
out?" 

"  Eagle-wing  takes  the  place  of  the  guide." 

"  Hum  ?"  Valentine  remarked,  with  some 
show  of  ill-humor.  "It  is  possible,  but  you 
play  for  a  heavy  stake,  chief.  That  old  vil- 
lain is  as  crafty  as  ten  monkeys  ami  ten 
opossums  united.  I  warn  you  that  he  will 
recognize  you." 

"My  brother  can  be  easy.  Eagle-wing  is 
a  warrior  ;  he  will  see  the  white  hunter 
again  in  the  desert." 

"  I  wish  so,  chief;  but  I  doubt.  However, 
act  as  you  please.  When  will  vou  join  Red 
Cedar?" 

"This  night." 

"  You  are  going  to  leave  us  ?" 

"  At  once.  Eagle-wing  has  nothing  more 
1o  confide  to  his  brother." 

And,  after  bowing  courteously  to  the  com- 
pany, the  Coras  chief  glided  into  the  thicket, 
in  which  he  disappeared  almost  instanta- 
neously. Valentine  looked  after  him  for 
some  time. 

"Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  thoughtful 
air,  "his  project  is  a  daring  one,  such  as 
might  be  expected  from  so  great  a  warrior. 
May  Heaven  protect  him,  and  allow  him  to 
succeed!" 

And  turning  to  Curuniilla,  "  The  clothes?  " 
he  said. 

"Here  they  are,"  the  Aucas  answered,  la- 
conically, as  he  pointed  to  au  enormous 
heap  of  clothiiiir. 

"  What  does  my  brother  mean  to  do  with 
them  ?"  Unicorn  'asked. 

"My  brother  will  see,"  Valentine  said, 
with  a  smile;  "each  of  us  is  going  to  put 
on  one  of  these  uniforms." 

The  Comanche  drew  himself  up  haughtily. 

"No,"  he  said,  "Unicorn  does  not  put 
off  the  dress  of  his  people.  What  need 
have  we  of  this  disguise?" 


THE  DBA OOONS  SURPRISED. 


In  order  to  enter  the  camp  of  the  Spun 
iarcls  without  being  discovered." 

"The  hunter  will  act  rightly.  But  I  ni 
com  is  a  chief,  he  can  not  put  on  the  clothe.-, 
of  the  pale-faces." 

Valentine  no  longer  insisted,  as  it  would 
have  been  unavailing ;  so  he  agreed  to  modi 
fy  Ills  plan.  He  made  each  of  his  comrade- 
put  on  a  dragoon  uniform,  and  himself 
donned  the  clothes  stripped  from  th- 
geant.  When  the  metamorphosis  was  as 
complete  as  possible,  he  turned  to  Unicorn. 

"The  chief  will  remain  here,"  he  said, 
"to  guard  the  prisoners." 

"Good,"  the  Comanche  answered.  "Is 
Unicorn,  then,  a  chattering  old  woman,  that 
warriors  place  him  on  one  side?" 

"  My  brother  does  not  understand  me.  I 
do  not  wish  to  insult  him,  but  he  can  not 
enter  the  camp  with  us." 

The  chief  shrugged  his  shoulders  disdain- 
fully. 

"The  Comanche  warriors  can   crawl  iir, 
11  as  serpents.     Unicorn  will  enter." 
'Let    my  brother  come,  then,   since  he 
hes  it." 

"  Unicorn  is  a  sachem  ;  he  must  give  an 
mpleto  his  young  men  on  the  war-path." 
alentine  gave  a  nod  of  assent. 
'Here  are  the  horses  of  the  pale-faces,'' 
rumilla  said;  "my  brother  will  need 
m." 

"  That  is  true,"  the  hunter  answered, 
with  a  smile  ;  "  my  brother  is  a  great  chief, 
he  thinks  of  every  thing." 

Every  one  mounted,  Unicorn  alone  re- 
mained on  foot.  Valentine  placed  the 
sergeant  by  his  side. 

He  said  to  him:  "You  will  act  as  our 
guide  to  the  camp.  We  do  not  wish  to  take 
the  lives  of  your  countrymen  ;  our  intention 
is  simply  to  prevent  them  following  us  at 
present.  Pay  attention  to  my  words;  if 
you  attempt  to  deceive  us,  I  blow  out  your 
brains.  You  are  warned." 

The  Spaniard  bowed,  but  made  no  reply. 
As  for  the  prisoners,  they  had  been  :-o  con- 
scientiously tied  by  Curumilla,  that  then- 
was  no  chance  of  their  escaping.  The  little 
hand  then  set  out,  Unicorn  dUttppearing 
itnong  the  trees.  When  they  came  a  short 
listance  from  the  bivouac,  "a  sentry  chal- 
lenged, "  Who  goes  there?" 

"Answer,"  Valentine  whispered  to  the 
sergeant. 

He  did  so.      They  passed,  and  the  sentry, 

suddenly  seized   by   Curamilla,  was  bound 

in  the  twinkling  of   an  eye,  all 

.-.ring    the   same   fate. 

•MS  keep  up  a  very  bad  watch  in 

the  field,  even  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy. 

Everybody  was  asleep,  and   Valentine  and 

his  friends  were  masters  of  the  eurnp.      The 

regiment  of   dragoons  had    been   sur 

without  striking  a  blow. 


91 

They    proceeded    from   picket   to 
picket,  removing  the  horses,  which  were  led 
out  of  camp.     "\Vithin   twenty  minutes   all 
had  been  carried  off.      When  they  had   fin- 
ished, Valentine  raised  the   curtain    of   the 
colonel's  tent,  and  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Unicorn,  from  whose  waist-belt  I; 
reeking  scalp.     Valentine  could  not   re] 
a  movement  of  horror. 

"  What  have  yon  done,  chief?"  he  asked, 
reproachfully. 

"  Unicorn  has  killed  his  enemy,"  the  Co- 
manehe  replied,  peremptorily.  "  When 
the  leader  of  the  antelopes  }*  killed,  his 
flock  disperses  ;  the  garhupinos  will  do  the 
same." 

Valentine  drew  near  the  colonel.  The  un- 
happy man,  fearfully  mutilated,  with  his 
brain  laid  bare,  lay  stark  dead  in  a  pool  of 
blood,  in  the  middle  of  the  tent.  The  hun- 
ter vented  a  sigh  at  this  sorry  sight. 

Taking  away  his  saber  and  epaulettes,  he 
lefl  the  tent,  followed  by  the  Indian  chief, 
and  rejoined  his  comrades.  The  horses 
were  led  to  the  Comanche  camp,  after  which 
Valentine  and  his  party  wrapped  themselves 
in  their  blankets,  and  slept  calmly  till  day- 
break. The  dragoons  were  no  longer  to  be 
feared. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TllK     .-TKAV-KK. 

FATIIKK  SKKAPHIN  and  Don  Pablo  we  left 
bearing  the  wounded  man  to  the  missionary's 
lodging.  Although  the  house  to  which  they 
were  proceeding  was  but.  a  short  distance 
off,  yet  the  two  gentlemen,  compelled  to 
take  every  precaution,  employed  consider- 
able time  on  the  journey.  Nearly  every 
step  they  were  compelled  to  halt,  so  as  not 
to  fatigue  too  greatly  the  wounded  man, 
whose  inert  limbs  swayed  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

"  That  man  is  dead,''  Don  Pablo  remark- 
ed, during  a  halt. 

"  1  fear  so,"  the  mi-sionary  an.-wered,  sad- 
ly ;  "still,  as  we  are  not  certain  of  it,  our 
comcienee  bids  us  to  bestow  our  care  01; 
him,  until  we  acquire  the  painful  conviction 
that  it  avails  him  naught." 

"  I  will  do  what  you  wi*h,  father.  You 
have  entire  power  over  me.  Slill,  1  fear  that 
all  our  care  will  be  thrown  away." 

''God,  whose  humble  instruments  we  are, 
will  prove  you  wronu',  I  ho.  .  a  lit- 

tle courage  ;  a  few  paces  further,  and  we 
(shall  have  arrived." 

Father  Scraphin  lodged  at  a  house  of 
modest  appearance,  in  a  .-nnl)  room  he  hired 
from  a  poor  widow.  This  room  only  receiv- 
ed air  from  a  window  opening  on  an  inner 
yard,  and  wasa  perfect  conventual  cell,  as  far 
as  furniture  was  concerned,  for  the  lattercon- 


Valentine's   comrades  dismounted;    they     sisted  of  a  wooden  frame,  over  whicb  a  bull 
4/1 


exactly  how  to  act,  and  did  not  devf- 
instructions  given  by  their 


hide  was  stretched,  and   served  as  the  mis- 
sionary's  bed.     But,  like  all  cells,  this  room 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTEA. 


was  marvelously  clean.  From  a  few  nails 
hung  the  well-worn  clothes  of  the  poor 
priest,  and  a  shelf  supported  vials  and  flasks 
which  doubtless  contained  medicaments ; 
lor,  like  all  the  missionaries,  Father  Sera- 
phin  had  a  rudimentary  knowledge  of  med- 
icine, and  took  in  charge  both  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  his  neophytes. 

The  father  lit  a  candle  of  yellow  tallow 
standing  in  an  iron  candlestick,  and  aided 
by  Don  Pablo,  laid  the  wounded  man  on  his 
own  bed ;  after  which  the  young  man  fell 
back  into  a  chair  to  regain  his  breath.  Father 
Seraphin,  on  whom,  spite  of  his  fragile  ap- 
pearance, the  fatigue  had  produced  no  ap- 
parent effect,  then  went  down  stairs  to  lock 
the  street-door,  which  he  had  left  open.  As 
he  pushed  it  to,  he  felt  an  opposition  out- 
side, and  a  man  soon  entered  the  yard. 

"Pardon,  my  reverend  sir,"  the  stranger 
said  ;  u  but  be  kind  enough  not  to  leave  me 
outside." 

"  Do  you  live  in  this  house  ?" 

"No,"  the  stranger  coolly  replied,  "  1  do 
not  live  in  Santa  Fe",  where  I  am  quite  un- 
known." 

"  Do  you  ask  hospitality  of  me,  then?" 
Father  Seraphin  continued,  much  surprised 
at  this  answer. 

"  Not  at  all,  reverend  sir." 

"  Then  what  do  you  want?"  the  mission- 
ary said,  still  more  surprised. 

"  I  wish  to  follow  you  to  the  room  where 
you  have  laid  the  wounded  man,  to  whose 
aid  you  came  so  generously  a  short  time 
back." 

"  This  request,  sir — "  the  priest  said,  hes- 
itating. 

"  Has  nothing  that  need  surprise  you.  I 
have  the  greatest  interest  in  seeing  with  my 
own  eyes  in  what  state  that  man  is,  for  cer- 
tain reasons  which  in  no  way  concerns 
you." 

"  Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?" 

"I  do." 

"  Are  you  a  relation  or  friend  of  his  ?" 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other.  Still,  I  re- 
peat to  you,  very  weighty  reasons  compel 
me  to  see  him  and  speak  "with  him,  if  that 
be  possible." 

Fatner  Seraphin  took  a  searching  glance 
at  the  speaker.  He  was  a  man  "of  great 
hijjht,  apparently  in  the  fullest  vigor  of 
life.  His  features,  so  far  a*  it  was  possible 
to  distinguish  them  by  the  pale  and  tremu- 
lous moonbeams,  were  handsome,  though 
an  expression  of  unbending  will  was  the 
marked  thing  about  them.  He  wore  the 
rich  dress  of  a  Mexican,  and  had  in  his  right 
hand  a  magnificently  inlaid  American  rifle. 
Still  the  missionary  hesitated. 

"  Well,"  the  stranger  continued,  "have 
you  made  up  your  mind  ?" 

"Sir,"  Father  Seraphin  answered  with 
firmness,  "  do  not  take  in  ill  part  what  I  am 
going  to  say  to  you." 

The  stranger  bowed. 

*'  I  do  not  know  who  you  are ;  you  pre- 


sent yourself  to  me  in  the  depths  of  the 
night,  under  singular  circumstances.  You 
insist,  with  strange  tenacity,  on  seeing  the 
poor  man  whom  Christian  charity  compelled 
me  to  pick  up.  Prudence  demands  that  1 
should  refuse  to  let  you  see  him." 

A  certain  annoyance  was  depicted  on  the 
stranger's  features. 

"You  are  right,"  he  answered;  "  appear- 
ances are  against  me.  Unfortunately,  the 
explanation  you  demand  from  me  justly 
would  make  us  lose  too  much  precious  time", 
hence  I  can  not  give  them  to  you  at  this 
moment.  All  I  can  do  is  to  swear,  in  the 
face  of  Heaven,  on  that  crucifix  }*ou  wear 
round  your  neck,  and  which  is  the  symbol 
of  our  redemption,  that  I  only  wish  well  to 
the  man  you  have  housed,  and  that  I  am 
this  moment  seeking  to  punish  a  great  crim- 
inal." 

The  stranger  uttered  these  words  with 
such  frankness,  and  such  an  air  of  sincerity, 
his  face  glistened  with  so  much  honesty, 
that  the  missionary  felt  convinced :  he  took 
np  the  crucifix  and  offered  it  to  this  extraor- 
dinary man. 

"  Swear,"  he  said. 

"  I  swear  it,"  he  replied  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Good,"  the  priest  went  on ;  "  now  you 
can  enter,  sir ;  you  are  one  of  ourselves ;  I 
will  not  even  insult  you  by  asking  your 
name." 

"  My  name  would  teach  you  nothing, 
father,"  the  stranger  said  sadly. 

"  IJollow  me,  sir." 

The  missionary  locked  the  gate  and  led 
the  stranger  to  his  room,  on  entering  which 
the  new-comer  took  off  his  hat  reverently, 
took  a  position  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and 
did  not  stir. 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  me,"  he 
said  in  a  whisper,  "  and  put  implicit  faith  in 
the  oath  I  took." 

The  missionary  only  replied  by  a  nod,  and 
as  the  wounded  man  gave  no  sign  of  life, 
but  still  lay  much  in  the  position  he  was 
first  placed  in,  Father  Seraphin  walked  up  to 
him.  For  a  long  time,  however,  the  atten- 
tion he  lavished  on  him  proved  sterile,  and 
seemed  to  produce  no  effect  on  the  squatter's 
son.  Still,  the  father  did  not  despair,  al- 
though Don  Pablo  shook  his  head.  An  hour 
thus  passed,  and  no  ostensible  change  had 
taken  place  in  the  young  man's  condition ; 
the  missionary  had  exhausted  all  his  stock 
of  knowledge,  and  began  to  fear  the  worst. 
At  this  moment  the  stranger  walked  up  to 
him. 

He  said  touching  him  gently  on  the  arm, 
"  you  have  done  all  that  was  humanely  pos- 
sible, but  have  not  succeeded." 

"  Alas !  no !"  the  missionary  said,  sadly. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  try  in  my  turn  ? 

"  Do  you  fancy  that  you  will  prove  more 
successful  than  I  ?"  the  priest  csked  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  hope  so,"  the  stranger  said  softly. 

"  Still,  you  see  I  have  tried  every  thing 


TEE  GENERAL  A  WAKE. 


that  the  medical  art  prescribes  in  such  a 
case." 

"  That  is  true ;  but  the  Indians  possess  cer- 
tain secrets  known  only  to  themselves,  and 
which  are  of  great  efficacy." 

44  I  have  heard  so.  But  do  you  know  these 
secrets?" 

41  Some  of  them  have  been  revealed  to  me  : 
I  will  try  their  effects  on  this  young  man, 
who,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  is  in  a  desperate 
condition." 

44 1  fear  he  is,  poor  fellow." 

The  stranger  bent  over  the  young  man, 
and  regarded  him  fora  moment  with  fixed 
attention  ;  then  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
flask  of  carved  crystal,  filled  with  a  fluid  as 
green  as  emerald.  With  the  point  of  his 
dagger  he  slightly  opened  the  wounded  man's 
closed  teeth,  and  poured  into  his  mouth  four 
or  five  drops  of  the  fluid  contained  in  the 
flask.  A  strange  thing  then  occured ;  the 
young  man  gave  vent  to  a  deep  sigh,  opened 
his  eyes  several  times,  and  suddenly,  as  if 
moved  by  supernatural  force,  he  sat  up  and 
looked  around  him  with  amazement.  Don 
Pablo  and  the  missionary  were  almost  in- 
clined to  believe  in  a  miracle,  so  extraordi- 
nary did  this  appear  to  them.  The  stranger 
returned  to  his  dark  corner.  Suddenly  the 
young  man  passed  his  hand  over  his  dank 
forehead,  and  muttered  in  a  hollow  voice : 

44  Ellen,  my  sister,  it  is  too  late.  I  can 
not  save  her.  See,  see,  they  are  carrying  her 
off;  she  is  lost!" 

And  he  fell  back  on  the  bed,  as  the  three 
men  rushed  toward  him. 

44  He  sleeps !"  the  missionary  said  in  amaze- 
ment. 

44  He  is  saved !"  the  stranger  answered. 

44  What  did  he  want  to  say,  though?"  Don 
Pablo  inquired  anxiously. 

44  Did  you  not  understand  it  ?"  the 
stranger  asked  him. 

44  No;  did  you?" 

44  Yes  ;  that  lad  wished  to  deliver  your  sis- 
ter !" 

44  It  is  true.    Go  on. 

"  He  was  stabbed  at  the  door  of  the  house 
where  she  sought  shelter." 

44  What  next?" 

44  Those  who  stabbed  him  wished  to  get 
him  out  of  the  way,  in  order  to  carry  her  cff 
a  second  time." 

44 Ah!"  Don  Pablo  exclaimed  in  despair, 
4f  my  father — let  us  fly  to  my  sister's  aid  !" 

The  two  men  rushed  from  the  house  with 
a  presentiment  of  misfortune.  When  the 
stranger  found  himself  alone  with  the 
wounded  man,  he  walked  up  to  him,  wrap- 
ped him  in  his  cloak,  threw  him  over  his 
shoulders  as  easy  as  if  he  were  only  a  child, 
and  went  out  in  his  turn.  On  reaching  the 
street,  he  carefully  closed  the  door,  and 
went  off  at  a  great  rate,  soon  disappearing 
in  the  darkness.  At  the  same  instant  the 
melancholy  voice  of  the  watchman  could 
be  heard  chanting  the  hour  of  four. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

GENERAL  VENTURA. 

IT  was  about  six  in  the  morning.  A  daz- 
zling sun  poured  down  his  transparent  rays 
011  the  streets  of  Santa  F^,  which  were  al- 
ready full  of  noise  and  movement  at  that 
early  hour  of  the  morning.  General  Ventu- 
ra was  still  plunged  in  a  deep  sleep,  reassur- 
ed by  the  speedy  arrival  of  the  dragoons 
promised  him,  and  fancying  he  had  nothing 
more  to  fear  from  theComanche,  who,  on  the 
previous  day,  had  so  audaciously  bearded 
him  in  the  very  heart  of  his  palace. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  sleeping  room  in 
which  the  worthy  Governor  reposed,  was  torn 
violently  open,  and  an  officer  entered.  Gen- 
eral Ventura,  aroused  with  a  start,  sat  up  in 
his  bed,  fixing  on  the  importunate  visitor  a 
glance,  at  first  stern,  but  which  at  once  be- 
came uneasy  on  seeing  the  alarm  depicted 
on  the  officer's  features. 

44  What  is  the  matter,  Senor  Captain  Don 
Lopez  ?" 

Captain  Lopez  was  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
who.  had  grown  gray  in  harness,  and  con- 
tracted a  species  of  rough  frankness,  that 
prevented  him  toning  the  truth  down  under 
any  circumstances,  which  fact  made  him  ap- 
pear in  the  General's  eyes,  a  bird  of  very 
evil  omen.  To  the  General's  query  the  cap- 
tain only  returned  the  following  three 
storm-laden  words : 

44  Nothing  that's  good." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

44  There  is  a  soldier  outside  who  has  just 
come  from  I  don't  know  where,  and  who  in- 
sists on  speaking  with  you.  Shall  I  bring 
him,  or  send  him  about  his  business  ?" 

"  One  moment,"  exclaimed  the  General, 
whose  features  had  suddenly  become  gloomy ; 
44  who  is  the  soldier?" 

44  A  dragoon,  I  fancy." 

44 A  dragoon!  let  him  come  in  at  once. 
May  Heaven  bless  you,  with  all  your  circum- 
locution! The  man,  doubtless,  brings  me 
news  of  the  arrival  of  the  regiment  I  am  ex- 
pecting, and  which  should  have  been  here 
before.  Let  him  come  in." 

44  That  is  true,"  said  the  captain,  as  he 
went  off. 

During  this  conversation  the  General  had 
leaped  from  his  bed,  and  dressed  himself 
with  the  promptness  peculiar  to  soldiers. 

All  at  once  a  great  noise  was  heard  in  the 
Plaza  Mayor.  The  General  went  to  a  win- 
dow, pulled  aside  a  curtain,  and  looked  out. 

44  The  Indians  again!"  he  saivi;  44how 
can  they  dare  to  present  themselves  here  ? 
They  must  be  ignorant  of  the  arrival  of  the 
dragoons.  Such  boldness  is  incomprehen- 
sible." 

He  let  the  curtain  fall,  and  turned  away. 
The  soldier  whom  the  captain  had  announc- 
ed stood  before  him,  waiting  the  General's 
pleasure  to  question  him.  The  General 
rtarted  on  perceiving  him.  He  was  pale; 
his  unifonjt  was  torn  and  stained  with  mud, 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


long  journey  on  foot 
General  wished  to 


as  if  he  had  made  a 
through  brambles.  The 
clear  up  his  doubts ;  but,  just  as  he  was 
opening  his  mouth  to  ask  the  man  a  ques- 
tion, the  door  flew  back,  and  several  officers, 
among  whom  was  Captain  Don  Lopez,  enter- 
ed the  room. 

"  General,"  the  captain  said,  "  make  haste  ! 
You  are  expected  in  the  council-hall.  The 
Indians  have  come  for  theansweryou  prom- 
ised to  give  them  this  morning.  We  have 
not  a  moment  to  lose,  if  we  wish  to  avoid 
heavy  disasters." 

The  General  started. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  in  an  ill-assured 
voice,  "  it  is  our  duty  to  watch  over  the  safe- 
ty of  the  population.  I  follow  you." 

And  taking  no  further  heed  of  the  soldier 
he  had  ordered  to  be  sent  in,  he  proceeded 
toward  the  council-hall. 

The  disorder  that  prevailed  without  had  at 
length  gained  the  interior  of  the  palace. 
Nothing  was  heard  but  shrieks  or  exclama- 
tions of  anger  or  terror.  The  Mexican  offi- 
cers assembled  in  the  hall  were  turnultuous- 
ly  discussing  the  measures  to  be  adopted  in 
order  to  save  a  contest  and  the  town.  The 
entrance  of  the  Governor  produced  a 
healthy  effect  upon  them,  in  so  far  that  the 
discussion  suddenly  ceased,  and  calmness 
was  restored. 

General  Ventura  regretted  in  his  heart  hav- 
ing counted  on  imaginary  help,  and  not  hav- 
ing listened  to  the  sensible  advice  of  some 
of  his  officers,  who  urged  him  the  previous 
day  to  satisfy  the  Indians  by  giving  them 
what  they  asked.  In  spite  of  the  terror  he 
felt,  however,  his  pride  revolted  at  being 
compelled  to  treat  on  equal  terms  with  bar- 
barians, and  accept  harsh  conditions  which 
they  would  doubtless  impose  on  him,  in  the 
consciousness  of  having  the  upper  hand. 

When  every  one  had  given  his  opinion,  the 
Governor  rose,  and  said  in  a  trembling 
voice : 

"  Cabal!  eros,  all  of  us  here  are  men  of 
courage,  and  have  displayed  that  quality  in 
many  difficult  circumstances.  Certainly,  if 
the  only  thing  was  to  sacrifice  our  lives  to 
save  the  hapless  townsmen,  we  would  not 
hesitate  to  do  so,  for  we  are  too  well  imbued 
with  the  soundness  of  our  duty  to  hesitate ; 
but,  unhappily,  that  sacrifice  would  not  avail 
to  save  those  whom  we  wish  before  all  to 
protect.  Lotus  treat,  then,  with  the  barba- 
rians, as  we  can  not  conquer  them.  Per- 
haps in  this  way  we  shall  succeed  in  protec- 
ting our  wives  and  children  from  the  danger 
that  menaces  them.  In  acting  thus,  under 
the  grave  circumstances  in  which  we  find 
ourselves,  we  shall  at  least  have  the  consola- 
tion of  having  done  our  duty,  even  if  we  do 
not  obtain  all  we  desire." 

Hearty  applause  greeted  this  harangue, 
and  the  Governor,  turning  to  the  porter, 
who  stood  motionless  a,t  the  door,  gave  or- 
ders to  introduce  the  principal  Indian 
chiefs. 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

THE  COMANCHES. 

VALENTINE  and  his  friends  awoke  at  day- 
break. The  Comanches  were  already  pre- 
pared to  start;  and  Unicorn,  dressed  in  his 
great  war  costume,  presented  himself  to  the 
hunter. 

"Is  my  brother  going?"  Valentine  asked 
him. 

"Yes,"  the  sachem  answered.  "I  am  re- 
turning to  receive  the  answer  of  the  chief 
of  the  pale-faces." 

"What  is  my  brother's  intention,  should 
his  demand  be  rejected?" 

"  They  would  not  dare,"  Unicorn  said, 
haughtily.  "If  the  chief,  whom  my  broth- 
er loves,  is  not  delivered  to  me  safe  and 
sound,  the  Spanish  prisoners  shall  be  tor- 
tured on  the  plaza  of  Santa  Fe,  the  town 
burned  and  sacked.  I  have  spoken. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Comanche  warriors 
had  formed  their  ranks,  and  only  awaited 
the  signal  of  the  sachem  to  start.  The 
Spanish  prisoners  taken  during  the  night 
were  placed  in  the  center,  bound  and  half- 
naked.  Suddenly  a  disturbance  was  heard 
in  the  camp,  and  two  men  rushed  panting 
toward  the  spot  where  stood  Valentine,  the 
sachem,  and  Curumilla.  They  were  Don 
Pablo  and  Father  Seraphin.  On  reaching 
their  friends,  they  fell,  almost  in  a  fainting 
state,  on  the  ground.  Valentine  felt 
strangely  alarmed. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  he  exclaimed  ; 
"  but  what  is  the  matter,  father  ?  What 
misfortune  have  you  to  announce  to  me  ?" 

'•DonaCiara: — " 

"  Well !"  the  hunter  said,  sharply. 

"Was  captured  again  last  night  by  Red 
Cedar,  and  torn  from  the  refuge  where  I 
placed  her." 

"Oh  !"  Valentine  exclaimed,  with  concen- 
trated fury,  as  he  stamped  his  foot,  "always 
that  demon — that  accursed  Red  Cedar.  My 
curses  on  him!  But,  take  courage,  father; 
let  us  first  save  Don  Miguel,  and  then  I 
swear  to  you  that  I  will  restore  his  daugh- 
ter to  him." 

Unicorn  advanced. 

"Master  of  prayer,"  he  said  to  Father  Se- 
raphin, in  a  soft  and  impressive  voice,  "your 
heart  is  good.  The  Comanches  love  you. 
Unicorn  will  help  you.  Pray  to  your  God. 
He  will  protect  us  in  our  researches,  since 
he  is,  as  you  say,  so  powerful." 

Then  the  chief  turned  to  Don  Pablo,  and 
laid  his  hand  firmly  on  his  shoulder : 

"  Women  weep,"  he  said ;  "  men  avenge 
themselves.  Has  not  my  brother  his  rifle  ?" 

On  feeling  the  Comanche's  hand  laid  on 
him,  Don  Pablo  drew  himself  up,  and  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  chief,  and  said,  in  a  broken 
voice: 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  chief.  I  am  a  man, 
and  will  avenge  myself." 

"  Good.  My  brother  speaks  well ;  he  is  a 
warrior." 


THE  GENERAL  NERVOUS. 


95 


crushed  for  a  moment,  had 
regained  all  his  energy. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 

"  To  Santa  Ft?,  to  deliver  your  father." 

"I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Come,    said  Unicorn. 

"No,"  Valentine  interposed,  authorita- 
tively. "  Your  place  is  not  there,  Don  Pa- 
blo ;  leave  the  Comanche  warriors  to  act  as 
they  please ;  they  do  not  need  your  help  to 
carry  out  their  plans  properly.  Remain 
with  me." 

"Command  me,  my  friend,"  the  young 
man  said,  with  resignation;  "1  have  per- 
fect confidence  in  your  experience." 

"Good.  You  are  reasonable.  Brother," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  chief,  "you  can 
start.  The  sun  is  already  high  in  the  hori- 
zon ;  may  heaven  grant  that  you  may  suc- 
ceed !" 

Unicorn  gave  the  signal  for  departure. 
The  Cornanches  uttered  their  war-yell,  and 
started  at  a  quick  pace. 

Curumilla  then  rose,  and  wrapped  himself 
in  his  buffalo-robe;  Valentine  watching  him, 
inquiringly. 

"Does  my  brother  leave  us ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  the  Araucano  answered,  curtly. 

"  Where  is  my  brother  going?" 

"To  look  for  the  camp  of  Red  Cedar's 
miners,"  the  Indian  replied,  with  a  cunning 
smile. 

"Good,"  Valentine  said.  "My  brother 
forgets  nothing." 

Curumilla  bowed  gracefully,  and  proceed- 
ed in  the  direction  of  the  Paso,  soon  disap- 
pearing in  the  windings  of  the  road.  Valen- 
tine turned  to  his  friends,  and  said : 

"Tell  me  all  about  Dona  Clara  being  car- 
ried off  again,  for  I  must  have  the  fullest 
details." 

We  will  leave  the  three  now  conversing, 
and  join  the  Comanches  and  Unicorn  again. 

When  the  Comanches  reached  the  Plaza 
Mayor,  opposite  the  palace,  they  halted. 
At  an  order  from  Unicorn,  the  prisoners 
were  completely  stripped  of  their  clothing 
and  placed  some  distance  in  front  of  the 
first  rank  of  Indians,  each  of  them  having  at 
his  side  a  fully-armed  Indian  ready  to  massa- 
cre him  mercilessly  at  the  slightest  sign  from 
Unicorn.  When  the  preparations  were 
completed,  the  Spider,  the  chief  who  had 
already  performed  the  duty  of  flag  of  truce, 
pranced  up  to  the  gate  of  the  palace,  and 
demanded  speech  with  the  Governor. 

The  officer  of  the  guard,  wiio  was  no 
other  than  Don  Lopez,  politely  requested 
the  Indian  warrior  to  wait  a  few  moments, 
and  then  proceeded  in  all  haste  to  General 
Ventura.  We  have  seen  what  took  place, 
and,  after  a  delay  of  nearly  half  an  hour, 
Captain  Don  Lopez  returned.  After  sonic 
preliminary  explanations,  he  informed  the 
Spider  that  the  General,  surrounded  by  his 
staff,  was  awaiting,  in  the  hall  of  audience, 
the  sachem  of  the  nation  and  his  three  prin- 
cipal warriors. 


The  Spider  communicated  this  answer  to 
Unicorn,  who  gave  a  nod  of  assent,  dis- 
mounted, and  entered  the  palace. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

NEGOTIATIONS. 

WHEN  Unicorn  entered  the  council-cham- 
ber, preceded  by  Captain  Lopez,  and  fol- 
lowed by  three  Indian  chiefs,  the  deepest 
silence  prevailed  among  the  Spanish  officers 
assembled  to  meet  him.  The  Governor, 
seated  in  a  chair  placed  in  the  center  of  the 
hall,  was  looking  nervously  round  him.  He 
answered  by  a  nod  the  ceremonious  bow  of 
the  Comanches.  The  sachem  draped  him- 
self in  his  buffalo-robe,  with  majestic  grace, 
drew  his  head  up  proudly,  and  walked  to- 
ward General  Ventura.  On  coming  within 
four  paces  of  the  Governor,  Unicorn  stopped, 
crossed  his  arms  on  his  chest,  and  took  the 
word. 

"I  salute  my  father!"  he  said,  in  a  loud 
and  fierce  voice.  "  I  have  come,  as  was 
agreed  on  yesterday,  to  fetch  the  answer  he 
owes  me." 

"Chief,"  the  General  answered,  in  any 
thing  but  a  firm  voice,  "your  behaviour 
naturally  surprises  me.  To  my  knowledge 
the  Spaniards  are  not  at  war  with  your  na- 
tion; the  whites  have  not  done  anything  of 
which  you  have  a  right  to  complain.  For 
what  reason  do  you  come,  then,  against  the 
sworn  faith,  and  when  nothing  authorizes 
you,  to  invade  a  defenseless  town,  and  in- 
terfere in  matters  that  onJy  concern  our- 
selves ?" 

"  My  father  does  not  answer  my  request," 
the  chief  said.  "  He  is  mistaken  ;  we  have 
a  cause,  the  imprisonment  of  Don  Miguel 
Zarate,  who,  himself  an  Indian,  has  never 
belied  his  origin.  Hence,  my  father  must 
no  longer  ask  by  what  right  I  am  here,  for 
that  is  perfectly  established.  When  I  came 
here  yesterday,  my  father  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  my  propositions  would  be  accept- 
ed, and  the  'exchange  of  prisoners  carried 
out." 

"It  is  possible,  chief,"  the  General  re- 
plied; "but  with  reflection,  your  proposi- 
tions have  appeared  to  me  unacceptable." 

"Wan!"  the  Indian  said,  though  not 
testifying  his  surprise  otherwise. 

"Yes,  the  General  continued,  (growing 
animated,  "  I  should  be  ashamed  to  grant 
them,  for  I  should  have  the  appearance  of 
only  yielding  to  threats.  No,  it  can  not  be. 
The  two  gentlemen  you  claim  are  guilty, 
and  shall  die  ;  and  if  you  venture  to  oppose 
the  execution  of  the"  just  sentence  of  the 
court,  we  will  defend  ourselves.  Honor 
forbids  me  subscribing  those  disgraceful 
proposals  which  you  did  not  fear  to  lay  be- 
fore me." 

"Is  it  really  honor  that  has  dictated  my 
father's  answer?"  the  Indian  asked,  ironi- 


96 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


cally.  "I  can  but  withdraw;  but  before 
doing  so,  I  will  give  him  news.  The  war- 
riors whom  my  father  expected  to  arrive  to 
his  aid  this  day  have  been  dispersed  by  my 
young  men,  as  the  autumn  breeze  sweeps 
away  the  leaves.  They  will  not  come." 

A  murmur  of  surprise,  almost  terror,  ran 
through  the  assembly.  The  sachem  let  the 
long  folds  of  his  bufialo-robe  fall  back,  tore 
from  his  girdle  the  bleeding  scalp  that  hang 
there,  and  threw  it  at  the  General's  feet. 

"That,"  he  said,  gloomily,  "is  the  scalp 
of  the  man  who  commanded  my  father's 
warriors." 

A  shudder  of  terror  ran  round  the  room 
at  the  sight  of  the  scalp ;  the  General  felt 
the  small  dose  of  courage  that  had  still  ani- 
mated him  oozing  out. 

"  Chief,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  is  it  possible  you  have  done  that  ?" 

"  I  have  done  it,"  the  sachem  answered, 
coldly.  "  Now,  farewell.  I  am  about  to 
join  my  young  men." 

"A  few  moments  longer,  chief,"  the 
General  said;  "perhaps  we  are  nearer  an 
understanding  than  you  suppose." 

"Here  is  my  last  word,"  the  Comanche 
said.  "  I  insist  on  the  two  prisoners  be- 
ing handed  over  to  me." 

"  They  shall  be." 

"We  shall  see.  My  warriors  and  myself 
will  remain  on  the  square.  If,  within  an 
hour,  the  pale-faces  are  not  free,  the  prison- 
ers I  hold  will  be  pitilessly  massacred,  and 
the  town  plundered.  I  have  spoken." 

Unicorn  left  the  hall,  mounted  his  horse 
again,  and  calmly  awaited  the  fulfillment  of 
the  promise  made  him. 

When  the  Indians  had  left  the  council- 
chamber,  the  Mexicans  rose  tunmltuously, 
for  each  feared  the  execution  of  the  chiefs 
threats.  When  the  Governor  saw  that  his 
officers  were  as  terrified  as  himself,  he  re- 
assumed  his  coolness. 

"  Caballeros,"  he  said,  "you  have  heard 
this  man.  Will  you  allow  yourselves  to  be 
thus  braved  in  the  heart  of  the  town  by  a 
handful  of  scoundrels  ?  To  arms,  Cabal- 
leros, and  let  us  die  bravely." 

This  sudden  warlike  order  seemed  to  his 
hearers  so  unusual,  and  before  all  so  inop- 
portune, that  they  pressed  him  to  accept 
without  delay  the  proposals  dictated  by  the 
sachem. 

This  was  all  the  Governor  wanted.  He 
had  the  minutes  pf  the  council  at  once  drawn 
up,  and  when  it  was  signed  by  all  present, 
he  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  As  you  insist,"  he  said,  "I  will  myself 
proceed  to  the  prison,  in  order  to  avoid  any 
rnisunderstanding,and  have  the  doors  opened 
for  Don  Miguel  Zarate  and  General  Ibanez." 

The  General,  glad  in  his  heart  at  having 
got  out  of  the  scrape  so  well,  left  the  Cabil- 
do,  and  walked  across  the  square  to  the 
prison,  which  stood  on  the  opposite  side. 

Don  Miguel  and  General  Ibanez,  on  this 


day,  according  to  their  wont,  had  risen  at 
sunrise,  and  then,  with  incredible  coolness, 
began  conversing  on  indifferent  topics. 
Suddenly  a  great  noise  was  heard  in  the 
prison;  a  clang  of  arms  reached  the  prison- 
ers' ears,  and  hurried  footsteps  approached 
the  rooms  in  which  they  were  confined. 
They  listened. 

A  key  creaked  in  the  lock,  and  the  door 
opened.  The  two  prisoners  fell  back  in 
surprise  on  seeing  the  General,  who  rushed 
into  the  cell,  followed  by  two  or  three  offi- 
cers. 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  want  here,  Gov- 
ernor?" Ibanez  exclaimed. 

General  Ventura  raised  his  head,  fixed  on 
the  prisoners  eyes  sparkling  with  joy,  and 
said,  in  a  panting  voice  : 

"My  friends,  I  would  come  myself  to  tell 
you  that  you  are  free." 

The  prisoners  fell  back  in  amazement. 

"What!"  General  Ibanez  exclaimed,  "are 
you  speaking  seriously  ?" 

Don  Miguel  attentively  looked  at  the  Gov- 
ernor, trying  to  read  in  his  face  the  reasons 
of  his  conduct. 

"  Come  away,"  the  Governor  said  eagerly, 
"do  not  remain  a  moment  longer  in  this 
pestilential  den." 

"  Pardon  me,"  Don  Miguel  said,  coldly, 
"  but,  with  your  permission,  we  will  remain 
a  few  moments  longer  in  it." 

"  Why  so  ?"  General  Ventura  asked,  open- 
ing his  eyes  to  their  fullest  extent. 

"The  care  of  our  honor  does  not  permit 
us  to  accept  a  liberation  which  might  stain 
it;  hence,  we  shall  not  leave  this  prison  un- 
til you  have  given  us  an  explanation." 

The  Governor  hardly  knew  whether  he 
was  on  his  head  or  his  heels ;  he  had  never 
before  had  to  deal  with  such  obstinate  pris- 
oners. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  with  feigned  admi- 
ration, "  I  understand  what  nobleness  there 
is  in  your  scruples,  and  am  happy  to  see  that 
I  was  not  mistaken  in  the  greatness  of  your 
character.  I  will  lay  no  conditions  on  you ; 
you  are  free,  purely  and  simply.  Here  are 
the  documents  connected  with  your  trial, 
the  proofs  produced  against  you ;  take  them 
and  destroy  them,  and  accept  my  sincere 
apologies  for  all  that  has  passed." 

While  saying  this,  the  Governor  drew  from 
his  breast  an  enormous  bundle  of  papers, 
which  he  offered  Don  Miguel.  The  latter 
declined  them  with  an  air  of  disgust ;  but, 
General  Ibanez,  less  scrupulous,  eagerly 
clutched  them,  looked  through  them,  to  see 
that  the  Governor  was  not  deceiving  him, 
and  then  threw  them  into  the  brasero,  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  room.  In  less  than 
four  minutes,  all  was  consumed. 

"One  word  more,  by  your  leave,"  the  ha- 
cicndero  remarked.  "  On  leaving  this  prison, 
where  are  we  to  go  ?" 

"Wherever  you  please,  gentlemen.  I  do 
not  even  ask  your  word  ol  honor  to  enter 
into  no  further  conspiracy." 


THE  STRANGER. 


Good,  sir,"  Don  Miguel  said,  holding 

t  bis  hand  to  General  Ventura,  "your 
duct  affects  ine — thanks." 
Come,  come,"  the  Governor  said,  to 
e  his  embarrassment  on  receiving  this  so 

-deserved  praise. 

The  prisoners  no  longer  hesitated  to  fol- 
low him. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  news  of  Don 
Miguel's  deliverance  had  spread  through  the 
town  with  the  rapidity  of  a  train  of  gun- 
powder; windows  and  roof*  were  tilled  with 
men,  women,  and  children,  whose  eyes,  fixed 
on  tLe  prison,  awaited  the  moment  of  Don 
Miguel's  appearance.  When  he  did  so,  tre- 
mendous shouts  greeted  him.  Unicorn 
walked  up  to  the  Governor. 

"My  father  has  kept  his  promise,"  he 
said,  gravely.  "I  will  keep  mine;  the 
white  prisoners  are  free ;  I  depart." 

The  Governor  listened  to  these  words  with 
a  blush;  the  sachem  returned  to  the  head 
of  his  war-party,  which  rapidly  retired. 

On  reaching  the  gate,  General  Ventura 
bowed  courteously  to  the  two  gentlemen, 
and  hurried  into  his  palace. 

"What  do  you  think  of  all  this?"  the 
haciendero  asked  his  friend. 

"Hum!"  General  Ibanez  muttered,  "the 
Governor's  conduct  seems  to  me  rather 
queer;  but,  no  matter,  we  are  free.  I  con- 
fess to  you,  my  friend,  that  I  should  have 
no  objection  to  go  a  little  distance  from  this 
place,  the  air  of  which,  despite  General  Ven- 
tura's protestations,  appears  to  me  remark- 
ably unhealthy  for  us." 

At  this  moment,  and  ere  Don  Miguel 
could  answer,  the  General  felt  a  slight  touch 
on  his  shoulders  ;  he  turned,  and  saw  Curu- 
milla  before  him,  with  a  smiling  face.  Don 
Miguel  and  the  General  suppressed  a  cry  of 
joy  at  the  sight  of  the  grave  and  excellent 
Ir-dian. 

"Come!"  he  said  to  them,  laconically. 

They  followed  him.  On  reaching  a  small 
street  near  the  sqnare,  and  which  was  nearly 
deserted,  Curumilla  led  them  to  a  house  be- 
fore which  he  stopped. 

"  It  is  here,"  he  said,  as  he  tapped  twice. 

The  door  opened,  and  they  entered  a 
courtyard,  in  which  were  three  ready-saddled 
horses,  held  by  a  groom,  which  they  at  once 
mounted. 

"Thanks,  brother,"  the  haciendero  said, 
warmly,  as  he  pressed  the  chief's  hand; 
"  but  how  did  you  learn  our  deliverance  ?" 

The  Araueauo  smiled  pleasantly. 

"Let  us  go,"  he  said,  making  no  other 
answer. 

"Where  to?"  Don  Miguel  asked. 

"TojoinKoutouepi." 

The  three  men  started  at  full  speed.  Ten 
minutes  later  they  were  out  of  the  town, 
and  galloping  across  the  plain. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE  MEETING. 

ON  reaching  a  point  where  the  trail  they 
were  following  formed  a  species  of  fork,  Cu- 
rumilla stopped,  and  the  two  gentlemen  im- 
itated him. 

"  That  is  your  road,"  the  Araucano  chief 
said.  "At  the  end  of  that  path  you  will  see 
Koutonepi's  bivouac  tire.  I  must  leave  you 
here." 

After  uttering  these  words,  Curumilla 
turned  his  horse  and  started,  giving  them  a 
parting  wave  of  the  hand. 

The  two  gentlemen  went  on  for  nearly 
half  an  hour  without  exchanging  a  syllable ; 
but,  just  as  they  turned  a  corner  in  the  path, 
they  saw  a  horseman  in  front  apparently 
waiting  for  them.  The  Mexicans  examined 
him  attentively,  but  a  black  velvet  mask 

Srevented  them  distinguishing  his  features, 
n  coming  within  five  yards  of  him,  they 
stopped. 

"  I  salute  you,  Don.Miguel  Zarate,  and  you, 
General  Ibanez,"  the  stranger  said.  "  I  am 
happy  to  see  you  out  of  the  claws  of  that, 
worthy  General  Ventura." 

"Friend,"  Don  Miguel  made  answer,  "  I 
thank  you  for  the  kind  words  you  address  to 
me,  and  which  can  only  come  from  a  friend's 
lips.  I  should  be  pleased  if  you  would  take 
off  the  mask  that  conceals  your  features,  so 
that  I  may  recognize  you." 

"  Gentlemen,  if  I  removed  my  mask  you 
would  be  disappointed,  for  my  features  are 
unfamiliar  to  you.  Do  not  be  angry  with  me 
for  keeping  it  on ;  but,  be  assured  I  am 
your  friend." 

The  two  Mexicans  bowed  courteously, 
and  the  stranger  went  on. 

"  I  knew  that  so  soon  as  you  were  free  you 
would  hasten  to  join  that  worthy  hunter 
Valentine.  I  placed  myself  here  where  you 
must  infallibly  pass,  in  order  to  make  you  a 
communication  of  the  utmost  importance, 
which  interests  you  extremely." 

"  Speak,  sir!"  said  Don  Miguel.  "  I  am 
anxious  to  learn  the  news  of  which  you 
have  condescended  to  be  the  bearer." 

The  stranger  shook  his  head  sadly,  and 
there  was  a  moment's  silence.  At  length  he 
spoke  again. 

"Two  months  have  elapsed, Don  Miguel, 
since,  through  the  treachery  of  Red  Cedar, 
you  were  arrested  and  made  prisoner  at  the 
Paso  del  Norte.  Many  events  of  which  yon 
are  ignorant  have  occurred  since  then.  On 
the  very  night  of  your  arrest,  at  the  moment 
you  laid  down  your  arms,  your  daughter  was 
carried  off  by  Red  Cedar." 

"My  daughter!"  the  haciendero  exclaim- 
ed in  anguish. 

"Yes,  the  stranger  continued;  "and 
after  long  researches,  a  man,  providentially 
aided  by  Father  Seraphin,  at  length  succeed- 
ed last  night  in  taking  Dona  Clara  from  her 
abductors :  but  Red  Cedar,  advised  by  some 
extraordinary  chance,  entered  the  house 


08 


THE  TRAIL-HUNTER. 


where  the  maiden  had  sought  shelter,  and 
carried  her  off  again." 

"  Oh !  I  will  avenge  myself  on  that  man  !" 
the  haciendero  shouted  passionately. 

"  You  will  find  your  son  and  Father  Sera- 
phin  with  Valentine,"  added  the  mask. 
"  Red  Cedar  intends  to  start  this  evening,  at 
the  head  of  a  band  of  miners,  to  go  into 
the  deserts  of  the  Rio  Gila,  in  search  of  a 
placer,  which  his  accomplice,  Fray  Ambro- 
sio,  has  indicated  to  him.  I  know  not  with 
what  design  Red  Cedar  is  taking  your  daugh- 
ter with  him  into  the  desert." 

"  I  will  follow  him,  were  it  fora  thousand 
leagues,"  Don  Miguel  said,  resolutely. 
"  Thanks  to"you  for  having  instructed  me  so 
fully.  But,  whence  comes  the  interest  you 
take  In  me  so  gratuitously,  since,  asy  ou  say, 
I  do  not  know  you?" 

"  You  shall  learn  at  a  later  date,  Don  Mig- 
uel. Now,  before  I  leave  you,  one  last  word 
— an  earnest  warning." 

"  I  listen  attentively." 

"  Do  not  tell  any  one — not  even  the  French 
hunter,  not  even  your  son— of  our  meeting. 
When  you  reach  the  far  west,  if  you  see  be- 
fore you,  at  one  of  your  bivouacs,  a  piece  of 
mahogany  bearing  the  impress  of  a  horse's 
shoe,  rise  at  midnight,  and  lea-ve  the  camp, 
not  letting  any  one  see  you.  When  you 
have  gone  one  hundred  paces  in  the  tall 
grass,  whistle  thrice :  a  similar  whistle  will 
answer  you,  and  then  you  will  learn  many 
things  important  for  you  to  know,  but  which 
I  can  not  tell  you  to-day.  Farewell." 

"  Farewell.     I  will  do  what  you  tell  me." 

The  stranger  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse's 
sides  and  the  animal  started  off  as  if  im- 
pelled by  a  tornado. 

"Who  can  that  man  be?"  said  Don  Mig- 
uel. 

"I  know  no  more  than  you  do,"  his 
friend  answered,  "but  I  assure  you  I  will 
know  if  it  be  possible." 

"  What !  do  you  intend  to  come  with  me  ?" 

"  If  you  will  accept  my  services,"  the  Gen- 
eral said,  gayly. 

"  Most  heartily,"  Don  Miguel  answered, 
warmly. 

"That  is  settled,  then  ;  and  I  swear  we 
will  deliver  Dona  Clara." 

"May  Heaven  grant  it,"  the  haciendero 
said,  sadly. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  two  friends 
reached  the  Trail-Hunter's  bivouac. 


Valentine  had  been  warned,  nearly  an 
hour  previously,  by  Unicorn,  of  the  negotia- 
tions with  the  Governor  of  Santa  Fe,  and 
the  immediate  liberation  of  the  prisoners. 
So  soon  as  he  noticed  their  approach  he- 
walked  to  meet  them,  followed  by  Don  Pa- 
blo. 

A  few  hours  were  spent,  after  the  first 
greetings  were  over,  in  a  conference,  of 
which  the  poor  child,  so  audaciously  carried 
off,  was  the  sole  subject.  Valentine  drew 
up  with  his  friends  the  pTan  of  the  campaign 


against  Red  Cedar,  which  was  so  daring 
that  it  would  have  made  the  most  resolute 
men  nervous  ;  but  the  free  adventurers  who 
were  about  to  carry  it  out,  in  no  way  feared 
the  mysterious  dangers  of  the  desert  which 
they  were  going  to  confront.  Father  Sera- 
phin  had  taken  leave  of  his  friends  and  found 
Unicorn,  with  whom  he  wished  to  go  to  the 
Comanche  villages,  in  the  hope  of  spread- 
ing the  light  of  the  gospel  there.  Toward 
evening  Curumilla  arrived.  Not  uttering  a 
word,  he  sat  down  by  the  fire,  took  his  calu- 
met from  his  girdle  and  began  smoking. 
Valentine  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Well?"  he  said  to  him. 

"Curumilla has  seen  them." 

"  Good ;  are  they  numerous  ?" 

"  Ten  times  the  number  of  fingers  ou  my 
two  hands,  and  one  more." 

"Zounds!"  Valentine  exclaimed.  "We 
shall  have  a  tough  job  in  that  case.  Do  you 
know  when  they  will  start  ?" 

"This  evening,  when  the  new  moon 
rises." 

"Ah,  ah;  I  read  their  plan,"  the  hunter 
said.  "They  intend  crossing  the  ford  of 
the  Toro  before  day." 

Curumilla  bowed  his  head  in  affirmation. 

"That  is  true,"  Valentine  remarked; 
"  once  the  ford  is  passed  they  will  be  in  the 
desert,  and  have  comparatively  nothing  to 
fear,  or  at  least  they  suppose  so.  I  must 
confess,"  he  added,  addressing  his  friends, 
"  that  Red  Cedar  is  a  remarkably  clever 
scoundrel;  nothing  escapes  him,  but  this 
time  he  has  a  tough  adversary." 

"What  shall  we  do?"  Don  Miguel  asked. 

"Sleep,"  Valentine  answered;  "we  have 
still  several  hours;  before  us,  so  let  us  profit 
by  them." 

Curumilla  had  slipped  away,  but  now  re- 
turned, bringing  with  him  two  rities,  pistols, 
•and  knives. 

"My  brothers  had  no  weapons,"  he  said, 
as  he  laid  his  load  before  the  Mexicans. 

The  latter  thanked  him  heartily ;  for  ow- 
ing to  the  foresight  of  Curumilla,  who 
thought  of  every  thing,  they  could  now  en- 
ter the  desert  boldly.  Two  minutes  later  the 
five  men  were  fast  asleep,  and  we  will  take 
advantage  of  their  slumber  to  return  to  Red 
Cedar,  whom  we  left  on  the  point  of  climb- 
ing through  Dona  Clara's  window,  while 
Fray  Ambrosio  and  Andres  Garote  were 
watching  at  either  end  of  the  street. 

At  one  bound  the  bandit  was  in  the  room, 
after  breaking  open  the  window  with  a  blow 
of  his  fist.  Clara,  suddenly  aroused,  leaped 
from  the  bed,  uttering  fearful  cries  at  the 
sight  of  the  terrible  apparition  before  her. 

"Silence,"  Red  Cedar  said  to  her;  "one 
cry  more,  and  1  kill  you." 

The  bandit  gagged  the  poor  child  with  the 
cloak  that  lay  on  the  bed,  threw  her  over 
his  shoulder,  and  clambered  out  of  the  win- 
dow again.  So  soon  as  he  put  foot  on  the 
ground,  he  whistled  lightly  for  his  comrades 
to  rejoin  him,  which  they  did  immediately, 


AX  EVENING  IN  DISGUISE. 


99 


wit 


trying  his  burden,  he  proceeded 
them  in  the  direction  of  the  Rancho 

el  Coyote. 

During  the  walk,  which  was  not  a  long  one, 

e  bandits  did  not  meet  a  soul.  Andres 
ened  the  door  and  lit  a  candle ;  the  ruffians 

tered,  and  the  door  was  carefully  bolted 
in.  Ked  Cedar  carried  Clara,  who  was  in 
a  naif-fainting  state,  to  her  room,  removed 
the  gag'  and  then  returned  to  the  bur. 

"There,"  he  said,  with  satisfaction,  "that 
is  all  right;  the  sheep  has  returned  to  the 
fold.  Now  listen  to  my  orders,"  he  con- 
tinued, u  and  try  and  carry  them  out  to  the 
letter;  or  if  not,  your  roguish  hides  will 
bear  the  blame." 

The  three  men  bowed  silently. 

"You,  Nathan,"  he  went  on,  "will  come 
with  me ;  and  you  others,  bear  this  carefully 
in  mind : — Our  enemies  will  never  suppose 
that  I  have  made  such  a  mistake  as  to  bring 
my  prisoner  back  here;  for  that  is  so  ab- 
surd, that  the  idea  will  never  enter  into 
their  heads.  To-morrow,  so  soon  as  the 
moon  rises,  you  will  make  the  girl  put  on  an 
Indian  dress,  and  come  to  me  at  the  camp. 
Immediately  after  your  arrival  we  shall 
start.  Good-by  tiil  to-morrow." 

"Till  to-morrow,"  they  answered. 

The  squatter  and  his  son  left  the  raueho. 
They  walked  for  a  long  time,  with  slung  ri- 
de, not  exchanging  a  word,  but  listening  to 
the  slightest  noise  and  sounding  the  dark- 
ness with  their  tiger-cat  eyes.  All  at  once 
they  heard  the  firm  footfall  of  a  man  coming 
toward  them.  They  cocked  their  rifles, 
ready  for  any  emergency.  A  voice  was  then 
heard,  though  the  person  to  whom  it  be- 
longed was  invisible. 

""My  brothers  must  not  fire;  they  would 
kill  a  friend." 

The  words  were  Apache — a  language  well 
known  to  the  squatters. 

Red  Cedar  replied  in  the  same  dialect, 
"  There  are  no  friends  in  the  shadow  of  the 
desert.  My  brother  must  get  out  of  my 
path,  or  I  will  kill  him  like  a  coyote." 

"  Is  it  thus,"  the  Indian  continued,  "  that 
the  '  man-eater  '  receives  the  guide  whom 
Stanapat,  the  great  chief  of  the  Apaches, 
sends  him  ?  In  that  case,  good-by.  I  will 
retire." 

"One  moment,"  the  squatter  said,  sharp- 
ly, as  he  lowered  his  rifle,  and  made  his  son 
a  sign  to  follow  his  example.  "  I  could  not 
guess  who  you  were.  Advance  without 
fear,  and  be  welcome,  brother,  for  I  was 
anxiously  expecting  you." 

The  Indian  stepped  forward.  He  wore 
the  costume  and  characteristic  paint  of  the 
Apache  warriors;  in  a  worn,  he  was  so  well 
disguised,  that  Valentine  himself  could  not 
have  recognized  in  him  his  friend,  Eagle- 
wing,  the  Chief  of  the  Coras,  though  it  was 
he. 

Red  Cedar,  delighted  at  the  arrival  of  his 
guide,  received  him  in  the  most  affable  man- 
lier. He  had  long  been  acquainted  with 


Stanapat,  the  most  ferocious  warrior  of  all 
the  Indian  nations  that  traverse  the  immense 
regions  of  the  Rio  Gila.  After  several  ques- 
tions, which  Eagle-wing  answered  without 
hesitation  or  once  tripping,  Red  Cedar,  con- 
vinced that  he  was  really  the  man  tin; 
Apache  chief  had  promised  to  send  him,  dis- 
missed all  doubt,  and  conversed  with  him  in 
the  most  friendly  spirit. 

"  What  is  my  brother's  name  ?"  he  asked, 
in  conclusion. 

"The  Heart  of  Stone!"  Eagle-winff  re- 
plied. 

"  Good !"  the  squatter  said ;  "  my  brother 
has  a  grand  name.  He  must  be  a  renowned 
warrior  in  his  tribe." 

A  short  time  after,  the  three  men  reached 
the  camp  of  the  miners,  established  in  a 
formidable  position  on  the  top  of  a  rock 
called  the  Black  Mountain. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

FORDING   THE  DEL  NORTE. 

THE  squatter's  two  accomplices  passed 
the  day  quietly  in  playing,  on  credit,  at 
monte.  No  one  came  to  disturb  them,  or 
cast  an  indiscreet  glance  into  this  infamous 
den.  About  nine  in  the  evening,  the  moon 
rose  magnificently  on  a  deep  blue  sky, 
studded  with  brilliant  stars. 

"I  fancy  it  is  time  to  get  ready,"  Fray 
Ambrosio  said. 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  Andres,  as  he 
hid  his  greasy  cards  in  his  boot,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  room  in  which  Clara  was  con- 
fined. She  followed  him  out,  weeping  bit- 
terly. 

"Come,  come,"  the  ranchero  said  to  her, 
" dry  your  tears;  we  do  not  mean  you  any 
harm." 

The  maiden  made  no  response  to  this  con- 
solation ;  she  allowed  herself  to  be  disguised 
unresistingly,  but  still  continued  to  weep. 

When  the  gambusino  had  completed  the 
maiden's  Indian  toilet,  he  perfected  the  dis- 
guise by  throwing  a  zarape  over  her  shoul- 
ders. Dona  Clara  was  placed  on  a  horse; 
Andres  and  the  monk  also  mounted,  and 
they  then  started  at  a  gallop  in  the  direction 
of  the  Black  Mountain. 

Red  Cedar  had  lost  no  time,  and  all  was 
ready  for  departure.  The  new-comers  did 
not  even  dismount,  but  so  soon  as  they  were 
sighted,  the  caravan,  composed,  as  we  have 
stated,  of  some  hundred  and  twenty  resolute 
men,  after  forming  in  Indian  tile,  started  in 
the  direction  of  the  prairies,  having  first 
prudently  detached  two  scouts  to  watch  the 
neighborhood. 

Soon  they  reached  the  banks  of  the  Del 
Norte,  or  Ford  del  Toro. 

The  miners  managed  to  get  across  safely. 
The  only  persons  left  on  the  bank  were  Red 
Cedar,  Eagle-wing,  the  guide,  and  Dona 
Clara. 


100 


THE  TtiAIL-HUHTEK. 


"It  is  our  turn  now,  Heart  of  Stone," 
the  squatter  said,  addressing  Eagle-wing; 
"  you  see  that  our  men  are  in  safety,  and 
only  await  us  to  set  out  again." 

"The  squaw  first,"  the  Indian  replied, 
laconically. 

The  maiden  boldly  made  her  horse  enter 
the  river,  and  the  two  men  followed.  Dona 
Clara's  horse  was  not  following-  the  line 
traced  by  the  ford,  but  was  turning  to  the 
left,  as  if  carried  away  by  the  current. 

The  squatter  crossed  without  any  acci- 
dent, and  reached  the  bank  in  safety. 

The  Coras  sachem  had  urged  his  steed 
in  pursuit  of  Dona  Clara's,  and  both  were 
following  the  same  line  down  the  stream, 
the  former  striving  to  catch  up  to  the  lat- 
ter. Suddenly  the  Coras'  horse  gave  a  leap, 
while  uttering  a  snort  of  pain,  and  began 
madly  beating  the  water  with  its  forelegs, 
while  the  river  was  tinged  with  blood  around 
it.  The  chief,  perceiving  that  his  horse  was 
mortally  wounded, leaned  over  the  side,  ready 
to  leap  off.  At  this  moment,  a  hideous  face 
appeared  flush  with  the  water,  and  a  hand 
was  stretched  out  to  grasp  him.  With  that 
imperturbable  coolness  that  never  deserts 
the  Indians,  even  under  the  most  critical 
circumstances,  the  Coras  seized  his  toma- 
hawk, split  his  enemy's  skull  open,  and 
glided  into  the  river. 

A  formidable  war-yell  was  at  this  moment 
heard  from  the  forest,  and  shots  were  fired 
from  both  banks  at  once,  illumining  the 
scene  with  their  fugitive  flashes.  A  score 


of  red-skins  rUshed  on  the  miners,  and  ft 
fight  commenced. 

The  combat  was  short ;  the  red-skins,  who 
were  only  a  party  of  marauding  Pawnees, 
disappeared  as  rapidly  as  they  had  come. 

So  soon  as  the  Indians  were  routed,  Red 
Cedar  bent  an  eager  glance  up  the  river ; 
on  that  side  the  struggle  was  also  over,  and 
Eagle- wing,  mounted  behind  the  young  lady, 
was  guiding  her  horse  to  the  bank,  which  it 
soon  reached. 

"  Well  ?"  the  squatter  asked. 

"  The  Pawnees  are  cowardly  coyotes,"  the 
Coras  answered,  pointing  to  the  human  scalp 
that  hung  from  his  girdle ;  they  fly  like  old 
women,  so  soon  as  they  see  the  war-plumes 
of  my  nation." 

"Good!"  the  squatter  said,  gleefully, 
"  my  brother  is  a  great  warrior;  he  has  a 
friend." 

The  Coras  bowed  with  a  smile  of  indescri- 
bable meaning.  His  object  was  gained ;  he 
had  acquired  the  confidence  of  the  man  he 
meant  to  destroy.  Dona  Clara,  Ellen,  and 
the  squatter's  wife  were  placed  in  the  center 
of  the  caravan,  and  the  band  started  again. 

An  hour  later,  a  seeond  party  of  horse- 
men also  crossed  the  Del  Norte.  It  was 
much  less  numerous  than  the  first,  as  it  con- 
sisted of  only  five  men,  but  they  were  Val- 
entine, Curumilla,  Don  Miguel,  his  son, 
and  General  Ibanez.  The  real  struggle  wab 
about  to  commence :  behind  them  they  left 
the  civilized  world,  to  find  themselves  face 
to  face  on  the  desert  with  their  enemies. 


THE  END. 


For  the  further  career  of  Red  Cedar,  the  Prairie  Outlaw;  Valentine,  the  Trail-Hunter; 
Curumilla,  the  Indian  chief ;  and  the  other  characters  of  this  thrilling  tale,  in  their  wild 
adventures  on  the  great  American  desert,  see  THE  PIRATES  OF  THE  PRAIRIE;  or, 
THE  BANDIT  AT  BAY,  American  Tales,  Second  Series,  No.  3,  Ready  December  29th. 

The  works  of  Aimard,  producing  as  they  do  a  rapid  succession  of  events,  makes  each 
chapter  almost  a  complete  story  in  itself,  so  strange,  startling,  and  unexpected  as  to  en- 
chain the  reader's  attention  like  a  wild,  weird  panorama,  making  them  the  most  satisfac- 
tory Novels  ever  published  in  America,  of  Western  Indian,  Border,  and  Prairie  Life. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


28Jun'57B  J 


REC'D  L.D 


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